


God Slept on a Sunday

by almostannette, writingramblr



Series: Annette's Gradence AU fics [9]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (if you squint), Adultery, Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Bottom!Percival Graves, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, First Date, First Time, Flea market, Gas Station, Graves is an ex-cop, I don't know when or if I'll return to it, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, Murder Mystery, Non-Consensual Breathplay, Non-magical AU, Physical Abuse, References to self-harm, Scars, Serial Killer, Spanking, THIS FIC IS ON HIATUS, Threats, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, animal cruelty, d/s dynamics, diner, references to unsafe BDSM, top!Credence Barebone, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-06-20 05:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15527520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostannette/pseuds/almostannette, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Percival Graves’ career comes to a rapid end when he fails to apprehend a monstrous serial killer. Plagued by old guilt, he runs away from his failures and tries to reinvent himself, far away from his former responsibilities as a policeman.He finds himself drawn to Credence, a troubled young man who's just as much in need of a fresh start as Graves himself. They fall in love, trying to leave the ghosts of the past behind.All seems to be going well...But the monster Graves is hunting might be much closer than he suspects.





	1. January

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts), [Binary_Sunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binary_Sunset/gifts).



> (Who would have thought I'd ever write another gradence fic? Not me, that's for sure!)
> 
> This fic is dedicated to soz and Tori, my two wonderful enablers - without their support this fic would probably not exist.
> 
> A special thank you goes out to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading!
> 
> And a quick word on trigger warnings - I'll update the tags with any relevant trigger warnings as this story progresses, and I'll also post chapter-specific warnings, like this:
> 
> **chapter warnings: minor character death, unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcoholism)**

“Pass me another Red Bull, will you,” Theseus says and holds out his right hand, keeping the left on the steering wheel.

Graves, who’s sitting in the passenger seat of the car, reaches down between his feet, where Theseus always keeps a few cans of energy drink. “I don’t know how you can drink this stuff,” he says, while he opens the can and hands it to Theseus. “Tastes like shit.”

Theseus takes a large gulp. “It works better than coffee and is more legal than coke.”

Graves shrugs. “I also don’t see how you can even think of drinking anything after what we just saw.”

They had been called to a crime scene earlier this evening. A little girl had been found murdered in the woods and the local police had requested help, which had brought Graves and Theseus out into this rural area.

It had also fallen to them to notify the dead girl’s parents.

“That’s the part of the job I hate the most,” Theseus says between sips of energy drink. “The locals should tell the parents.”

Graves thinks about the victim. A seven-year-old, white, with blond pigtails. The hair on her forehead had been held back with a Hello Kitty hair clip, now half-encrusted with blood. Tamara Olsen, called “Tammy” by her parents and her friends at school.

“Yeah,” Graves says. “If you’re going to hear horrible news like this, it should be delivered from someone you know.”

Even as he says it, he’s not sure he believes his own words. What does it matter who the messenger is? As if a familiar face could really bring you comfort when you just lost the most important person in your life.

Tammy Olsen was her parents’ only child.

“But I get the local officers, too,” he says. “Do you want to be the one who has to tell your friends that their kid got killed?”

“Fuck no.”

“See? And they’re going to be devastated anyway,” Graves says and fiddles with the radio, so he has something to do with his hands.

After a couple more minutes driving along rural roads in the middle of a winter night, the GPS tells them that they reached their destination.

It’s a farmhouse, and the white truck parked in the driveway informs them that they’re at “Olsen’s poultry farm”. The first-floor windows are lit, despite the late hour. Graves thinks he wouldn’t get any sleep either if he had a kid and they were missing.

He and Theseus walk up to the porch, and just as Graves is about to ring the doorbell, the door is already being thrown open.

The man standing in the doorway and looking at them with a wide-eyed, slightly maniacal expression is in his early thirties and is perhaps an inch or two shorter than Graves. He has dark blond hair, is a little on the chubby side, and looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Are you Sam Olsen? Tammy’s father?”

“Yes, and you’re… did you find Tammy? Where is she?!”

There’s still a mad, desperate trace of hope in his voice as he speaks, like something inside him is already suspecting the worst, but he can’t quite bring himself to accept it as a possibility yet.

Theseus shakes his head, introduces himself and Graves, and asks if they may come inside.

Something shifts in Sam Olsen’s attitude and he steps aside to let them into the house, shaking his head from side to side and muttering under his breath. When Graves passes him by, he can hear what he’s saying: “Please don’t let this be real, please let this be a dream, please… ”

Mr. Olsen directs them to the kitchen, where his wife is standing at the kitchen counter, holding a mug in her hand.

Cecily Olsen looks like she was a good mother, Graves thinks. Just a bit shorter than her husband, she’s wearing her blond hair in a braid and her face is full of red splotches from crying.

“Please, Mr. Olsen, Mrs. Olsen, take a seat,” Graves says, running through the script they have for these kinds of situations almost mechanically, taking turns with Theseus when it comes to explaining the horrible truth to the couple in front of them.

Mr. Olsen goes awfully quiet, almost catatonic when he hears the news. He’s sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, staring off into space. The only reaction indicating that he’s understood what Graves and Theseus have told him are the tears running down his cheeks.

Mrs. Olsen’s reaction is the polar opposite of her husband. She breaks down, wailing like a wounded animal, and Graves feels utterly helpless. He hears himself say “I’m so sorry for your loss”, but the words are hollow. They hold no comfort at all.

Theseus catches his eye and mouths at him to just wait until the first shock subsides. They’ll have questions, Graves knows, and it’s going to be a long night.

A loud sob from Mrs. Olsen seems to shake her husband out of his daze. He reaches out to her, trying to pull her into a hug, but she flails in an attempt to shake off his hands and accidentally pushes the mug off the table. It shatters on the kitchen floor, spilling tea everywhere.

Graves thinks of Tammy’s blood, soaking the snow-covered ground around her broken body.

Nobody makes a move to clean up the mess, Mr. and Mrs. Olsen don’t even seem to notice.

Staring at the scene in front of them, Graves loses all sense of time. Finally, both parents calm down enough so Theseus and he can finish their report. Mrs. Olsen wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “I want to see my daughter,” she says with a trembling voice. “I want to see Tammy.”

“I understand why you might want that, ma’am,” Theseus says. “But, you see, right now you can’t. An autopsy will be performed so we can… ”

“You can’t keep me from seeing my daughter!” Mrs. Olsen yells and pounds her fists on the kitchen table. “I want to see Tammy! You can’t… she’s  _ my _ daughter… she… ”

Mr. Olsen pulls his wife into his arms and she sobs her heart out against his chest. “Why can’t we see her now?” he asks.

“We already told you, the coroner needs to perform an autopsy,” Graves says. “And in addition to that, it would really be better if you wait… it doesn’t… if you wait, she’ll look just like she’s sleeping.”

Theseus meets his eye for a second and minutely shakes his head. Graves knows what he means - no matter what, even if the mortician does their best, a dead body is never going to look like it’s just sleeping.

After she calms down a little, Mr. Olsen releases his wife from the hug. “This feels like a nightmare,” he says, perpetually shaking his head. Graves asks himself if he even realizes that he’s doing it, or if it’s just his body, expressing denial in the most basic way it knows. “I… it’s like they keep saying it in the movies, I’m waiting to wake up but I… but I just don’t.” Mr. Olsen runs his hands through his hair, pulling at it, all while he keeps shaking his head.

Mrs. Olsen hiccups and blows her nose on a handkerchief which she just lets fall to the floor afterward. It joins the shattered mug and the spilled tea on the floor in the otherwise spotless kitchen. She looks at Graves and Theseus with an unreadable expression and narrows her eyes at them. “Promise you’ll find the one who did this,” she says. “Promise you’ll find the filthy swine who k-k-killed… ” Her voice breaks for a moment. “Promise you’ll find him.”

Graves glances at Theseus. Rightfully, they can’t make any promises and usually, Graves wouldn’t do it, either, but there’s something in Cecily Olsen’s eyes...

“You have my word,” he says. “We’ll find him and make sure he gets the punishment he deserves.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Eyebrows raised, Mrs. Olsen looks to Theseus, who’s clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “What he said, ma’am,” Theseus says, but it lacks the conviction of Graves’ pledge. “I promise,” Theseus adds, but it’s clear that he doesn’t mean it, not like Graves does.

* * *

Tammy Olsen has started to haunt him. Graves can’t seem to let go of the case, and what had started as a promising investigation, with the likelihood of plenty of evidence, hasn’t turned up a lead.

The local police made a mess of the crime scene when they first arrived - a bunch of incompetent botchers, in Graves opinion - and so they’ve largely been groping in the dark.

Or rather, Graves has been groping in the dark. His colleagues, first and foremost Theseus and Seraphina, seem to be just content to let the case go cold as if there’s not a child murderer on the loose who could strike again at any moment.

It has been the subject of many heated arguments between the three of them, Graves accusing them of not caring enough, Seraphina and Theseus, in turn, telling him that he’s in too deep and needs to take a break. “You’re ruining your life over this case,” Sera tells him one evening after work. “When is the last time that you had more than one or two hours of sleep? I bet you don’t even know anymore!”

Graves denies it, of course, but she’s right.

He feels like his whole life is falling apart at the seams. Any time he tries to relax, as his co-workers and friends tell him he needs to do, he feels like he’s right back in that kitchen, promising Mrs. Olsen that he was going to find Tammy’s murderer.

Graves tries everything he can think of to look at the crime from a different angle, to find a new perspective in which all the puzzle pieces hopefully start to make sense.

Sometimes, when he’s at home, poring over documents and taking notes, with a bottle of bourbon as his only companion, he asks himself if he’s grasping at straws.

He’d thought he found a lead when he’d spoken to Tammy’s friends from school, and one girl showed him a picture Tammy had drawn a few weeks before her death, which showed her in the company of a tall man standing in front of a large, gray car. “She said she met a wizard,” Tammy’s friend had said to Graves. “But it was her secret, and she wasn’t allowed to tell her parents. She said he used to give her funny animals.”

What Graves had seen as evidence that Tammy had known her murderer and had been groomed by him using ‘funny animals’, whatever those were, his colleagues brushed off as delusions. Tammy had been a child with a vivid imagination, everyone said so, and she’d been known to make up stories to get attention.

Having a secret wizard friend who gave her gifts sounded just like another one of Tammy’s stories. Graves was reading too much into it, they said.

Taking a generous swig of bourbon, Graves looks at the photographs he took of Tammy’s drawing. Is he really going crazy and trying to see leads where there are none?

He shakes his head, puts the photographs away, and focuses instead on a map of the state. The location where Tammy’s body had been found is marked with a red X. Graves has gone through the archives with a fine comb and searched for similar murder cases in the area in the last few years.

The killer was too experienced for Tammy to have been his first victim, the coroner had said. In short, there must be other victims.

What Graves had found were a number of cases of murdered girls, who’d all resembled Tammy’s description - white, between six and nine years old, long blond hair. Most of the murder cases were unsolved, although a few years ago, one of the murders had been pinned on a mentally ill black man, who’d previously been charged with statutory rape. He’d been found guilty and sentenced to life in prison, even though the evidence, as one article covering the case put it, had been ‘more than thin’.

After the man’s conviction, other blond girls had turned up dead, murdered with the same method, but they had, at the time, been dismissed as copycat killings. Graves frowns. One thing is clear, the man cannot have been Tammy’s murderer since he was in prison. No, he’s looking for a different, as of yet faceless monster that’s out there, somewhere, and it’s his duty to find him.

After a couple more swigs of bourbon, Graves flips through the pages about the murders and marks the other crime scenes with a red cross as well. Some of the murders differ insofar as the place where the body was found was not the place where the crime was committed. He marks those with a black circle.

While he’s adding crosses and circles to the map, Graves can’t help but notice a pattern starting to emerge.

He can’t wait to show his colleagues what he’s found out.

* * *

“So you’re saying… what exactly are you trying to tell us with that map?” Seraphina asks him the next morning when he proudly presents the map along with the stack of pages he has on the other murdered girls.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Graves says, too loud and too quickly. “Here, do you see that, the crosses, those are crime scenes. Do you notice anything unusual? See, they’re all along the same road! This means the killer has to take this road frequently, we need to look into this!”

Seraphina and Theseus give him identical looks of pity.

“Percival, please believe me when I say that I’m so sorry to tell you, but… ” Theseus begins reluctantly. “I don’t know how to tell you, to be honest… ”

“What is it?”

“Don’t you think you’re taking this all a little too much to heart? That you should maybe take a break from the investigation? Everyone around here can see that you’re not in a good place right now and… Percy, we’re worried about you,” Seraphina says.

She tries to place a hand on Graves’ arm, but he shakes her off. “I’m taking this too seriously? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Theseus, you saw the girl’s parents, too, you were there with me when we talked to them. I made a promise that I was going to find the one who killed Tammy and I think I’m well on the way to finding the murderer of those other girls, too! Dammit, if you’d all just fucking listen to me for one minute and let me explain, then you’d understand!”

“No,  _ you’re _ going to listen for a minute and let  _ us _ explain! I don’t know what kind of delusions you suffer from, but… dammit, Percy, get yourself a therapist and move on, this is not even your investigation anymore!” Theseus yells and balls his hands into fists. “I… we’re friends, Percy, but I’m telling you, I’m one second away from trying to slap some sense into you. Not that it’s going to make much of a difference at this point.”

“I don’t… what do you mean with ‘this is not even your investigation anymore’? What is that supposed to… ?”

Seraphina sighs, massaging her temples. “We were trying to find a way to break it to you gently,” she says softly. “But that didn’t work out, did it? So, Percy, you’ve been suspended from duty.”

“I’ve been… what? For how long? Sera, you can’t… you can’t do this to me,” he stammers. How dare she suspend him from duty, if he just found a lead? If he’s  _ this  _ close to catching the killer? And really, they think he’s obsessing over the case? He’s the only one who even takes the case seriously!

He looks from Seraphina to Theseus and back again. “Traitors,” he spits. “You’re all just a bunch of fucking traitors. I have  _ evidence _ ! You can’t just ignore that! You mustn’t!”

Theseus shares a look with Seraphina. “Look, Percy,” he starts, trying to find the right words. “I promise that we won’t ignore your… theory, but even you have to admit that it’s… shaky, at best. What you’ve got is a little girl’s drawing and another little girl’s story. You know how kids get. They’ll say anything in order to get attention. The road… well, yes, I admit, there could be a correlation and we can look into it, but you know just as well as I do that there’s no way we can check on every single person who uses that road… ”

“You don’t have to,” he insists. “Look, Tammy drew a gray car, didn’t she, and I think this symbol that she drew up here, over the man’s shoulder, that might be the car brand, it looks kind of like… ”

“Percy, I’m sorry, but… this doesn’t look like a car brand, you know, this could be anything. She could have just felt bored and doodled a nonsensical symbol,” Theseus says. “A gray car and a white man with ‘funny animals’,” he mumbles. “Percy, you’re a good investigator. You know that this isn’t going to hold up anywhere. You’re reading too much into things.”

“I’m not… ”

“You need a break,” Seraphina says. “You can’t keep on doing this to yourself. Look, I know this nice place up in the forest, away from the city, you can rent yourself a really cozy cabin for cheap, it might help you calm down. You can go fishing, you can go for a hike, you know, just relax a little.”

“Relax?” Graves repeats incredulously. “How am I supposed to relax?!”

* * *

Graves caved in and even took Seraphina’s advice to heart to a certain extent. He rented one of the ‘cozy cabins’, to use her words. Ironically, to get to that resort, he had to take the same road he thinks - no, the same road he  _ knows _ the killer is regularly taking.

The press hadn’t been able to settle on one single name for Tammy’s killer. Graves has seen all sorts of names, usually involving the words ‘Monster’, ‘Slayer’ or ‘Butcher’ in some form or another. The latter is the name Graves starts using as well - the Butcher. Sometimes, though, he’s more partial to another name, which is usually an echo of Cecily Olsen’s words to describe her daughter’s killer - ‘filthy swine’.

Graves moved to the cabin a couple of weeks ago. It’s not like he has to worry about money, being a Graves means he’s descended from old money, even though he’s a member of a branch that’s not nearly as much in the spotlight as some of his more distant relatives. Still, he has enough money to continue this life as an unemployed ex-cop nursing his depression in a cottage in the forest for quite a while still. He doesn’t miss his salary, either, he’s always had a knack for investing his money. He’ll be able to live quite comfortably off of that.

He hasn’t done any of the leisure time activities Seraphina and Theseus had spoken of - instead, he’s spent most of his time driving up and down the road, exploring the routes that the Butcher might have taken, trying to understand what must have been going on in the mind of such a sick man.

At night, he’s usually staying up, drinking and reading about former cases, criminalistic studies, whatever he can get his hands on to try to  _ understand _ . In the end, it might just be an insignificant detail that could lead to the Butcher being stopped.

At first, he still regularly checks in with his friends, calls them or exchanges emails, but after a while that contact gets ever more sporadic and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s also losing track of time. The days and nights start bleeding into each other, aided by his liberal use of alcohol.

In hindsight, without the alcohol addling his senses, he never would have bought the gas station.

The gas station in question is the one he usually stops at. It’s located not far from the resort, just on the outskirts of a small town. The place is a little run-down, for sure, but gas is cheap and the owners have never said anything when Graves picks up a six-pack or a bottle of bourbon, which he does with alarming frequency.

Good service, cheap alcohol, no questions asked? That works just fine in his book.

He might say he’s on friendly terms with Max, the old man who runs the gas station. His wife Erica works in a bakery in town, he’s told Graves, and they live in the house next to the gas station, which they used to share with their three children, who have now all moved away. “The house is too large for us, and honestly, we’re really thinking of selling the station and retiring,” he likes to say.

Graves doesn’t know when exactly he decided to buy the gas station, but after what feels like the hundredth time of hearing Max talk about selling the gas station along with the adjacent house and retiring somewhere, Graves offers to buy it.

Max doesn’t believe him at first, of course, but Graves insists he means it.

Eventually, when he’s signing the purchase contract, Graves decides to really leave it all behind and start a new life, one which is not haunted by ghosts of children long dead and their heartbroken parents.

He’s not going to be Percival Graves, criminal investigator, weighed down by promises he’ll never be able to keep.

No, he’s just going to be Percy, the guy who runs the gas station in town.

Again, in hindsight, Graves would have never predicted that buying the gas station, of all things, would eventually help him catch the Butcher.


	2. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left a comment or kudos on the last chapter!
> 
> Once again, a huge thank you to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for being an awesome beta-reader!
> 
> **Chapter warnings: implied adultery, implied physical abuse, implied unhealthy relationship dynamics (however, none of these affect Graves/Credence)**

The morning after he officially moved into his new house, Graves is standing in the kitchen, contemplating the fridge and the pantry, both of which are nearly empty.

His stomach growls.

He could try to cook breakfast from scratch with the few ingredients he has - his cooking skills have never been the greatest, though, and he’s not sure if he trusts himself around a stove without getting his obligatory morning dose of caffeine first.

Decision made, Graves throws on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, telling himself that he looks presentable enough, at least for a town in which nobody knows him anyway. Theseus and Seraphina would probably still be shocked to see him like that - he’s gained about ten pounds since he’s been laid off, has grown his beard out and has spent more time dressed in ratty T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants than in the nearly four decades of his life combined.

He picks up his car keys. There’s a diner just a few minutes away from the gas station, he’s passed it by a couple of times already since he moved here and he’s going to see if they serve breakfast.

Thankfully, ‘Queenie’s Diner’ is open for business in the morning. It’s a far cry from the stylish places he’d take his friends and partners to, and the whole set-up could best be described as being down to earth. Still, Graves thinks it has a certain charm and if it weren’t for the few patrons watching him with wide eyes, he’d even feel comfortable and welcomed.

He’s no longer living in a large city, he tells himself - everyone knows everyone around here, any outsider is going to be identified as such in a matter of seconds.

Graves chooses a table that’s a little secluded, and while it keeps himself hidden from the view of nearly all the other patrons, it also allows him to watch over most of the diner comfortably.

The only people near him are two children, young girls, who are sitting at a table diagonally opposite of him. The older one - Graves guesses she’s eleven, maybe twelve years old - is doing her homework for school. She has curly reddish hair and keeps sending suspicious glances in Graves’ direction.

But it’s not the older girl that caught Graves’ eye - it’s the younger one, maybe seven or eight years old. She has the same pale skin and white blond hair as all the Butcher’s previous victims. Do her parents know that their daughter is in danger, that there’s a killer on the loose who’s bound to take this road frequently? Maybe the Butcher has already seen her and taken an interest, possibly he’s just biding his time, waiting for the right moment…

He’s shaken out of his musings by the waiter who’s approaching him. It’s a young man, tall and dark-haired, a little on the gangly side, but undeniably handsome.

“Good morning! Are you ready to order?”

“Uh, yes,” Graves says and fumbles for the menu. “I’d like a filter coffee, please and… what’s good?”

“Everything,” the waiter says and grins, revealing two rows of mostly straight teeth - one incisor, though, is badly chipped, it looks like half the tooth is gone. Knocked out, maybe, due to an accident or something else? There’s a bruise peeking out from under his collar…

“If you like sweets, though, I’d say take the strudel. Queenie’s apple strudel is famous around here.”

“Then I’ll have the strudel,” Graves says, glancing at the waiter’s name-tag. “Thank you, uh, Credence.”

When Credence returns with Graves’ order, placing a mug of steaming black coffee and a plate bearing a large slice of apple strudel with whipped cream in front of him, the younger of the two girls drops her pencil and it rolls towards Graves’ table.

Credence makes a move to pick it up, but Graves is faster and hands the blonde girl her pencil. “Here you go, young lady,” he says with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. From the way the girl looks at him with wide, frightened eyes, it seems to be anything but. She snatches the pencil out of his hand and returns to her chair.

“Thank you,” Credence says to Graves, smiling at him a little nervously. “I’m sorry, she’s a bit wary of strangers.” He turns to the girl. “Modesty, what do we say when somebody helps us?”

“Thank you,” the blond girl - Modesty - parrots without meeting Graves’ eyes.

Credence sends an apologetic look in Graves’ direction. “Like I said, a little wary of strangers.”

“Are they your… uh… ” he falters and makes a couple of vague gestures. They can’t be Credence’s children, he’s too young to realistically be the father of either of the two girls.

“They’re my half sisters. They’re living with me and I’m taking care of them,” Credence says. “You’ve met Modesty, the older one is Chastity. Our mother had a thing for virtue names.”

No kidding.

Graves wants to think of something clever to say to keep the conversation going, but before he can think of anything, Credence excuses himself and says he’s needed at another table. Graves just nods and takes a sip of his coffee - very strong, but good, not quite hot enough to burn his tongue.

He tastes the strudel next and finds out that Credence had probably told the truth when he said that the strudel is famous around here. It’s good enough that Graves decides to come to this place more often in the future.

After a couple more sips of coffee, he feels the caffeine take effect and he feels much more alert and awake than before.

Credence’s sisters are still giving him strange looks, but he decides to ignore them. He knows he looks a little scruffier than he’s used to, but it’s okay, he’s just trying to get his life back in order, that’s not the time for vanity.

By the time he’s taking the last few bites of strudel, the waistband of his jeans has started to feel uncomfortably tight. Perhaps he  _ should _ have chosen a healthier breakfast option, one that was not as high in calories as the strudel. ‘You’re not getting any younger,’ says a voice in his head, the chiding undertone sounding dangerously close to Seraphina when she’s in a mood.

Having finished the strudel, he sets down his fork and picks up the half-full coffee mug, taking a sip from time to time.

Chastity and Modesty are putting their pencils, drawings, and homework away into their respective backpacks and putting on their jackets. Credence gives each of them a hug before the two girls exit the diner and make their way to the side of the road, waiting for the school bus.

Across the street from where Credence’s sisters are waiting for the bus, there’s an awfully familiar truck parked in the driveway of a house with a myriad of what looks like carved animal figures on the porch. If he squints a little, he can read the faded logo of ‘Olsen’s Poultry Farm’. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget Cecily Olsen’s screams when he had to tell her that her missing daughter had been found dead.

He loses track of how long he keeps staring at that truck, certainly long enough for the school bus to arrive and collect Modesty and Chastity. His coffee has long gone cold when Sam Olsen steps out onto the porch, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his hair. A woman is standing in the doorway behind him, short, thin and blond, and Sam gives her a quick kiss before he gets into his car.

Graves finally manages to tear his gaze away, not knowing how to feel about what he just witnessed. Pity for Mrs. Olsen, maybe? He takes the last sip of his coffee and suppresses a shudder. It tasted much better when it had still been fresh and warm.

* * *

During the following month, Graves starts to adjust to the new life he’s chosen for himself, learns how to successfully run a gas station, and becomes a regular at ‘Queenie’s Diner’.

The eponymous Queenie turns out to be a woman in her early thirties with short, blond curls, a bubbly personality, and a love for the color pink if her clothing at any given day is an indication. She’s one hell of a cook, as Graves found out by slowly tasting his way through all the options on the menu, and in a relationship with Jacob Kowalski, who runs a pastry shop in town and personally delivers fresh pastries every morning. Jacob is a short, heavyset man with an easy-going nature, just like his girlfriend.

Over time, Graves has also come to identify some of the other regulars at the diner. Tina, Queenie’s sister, usually swings by for lunch (in her case, that’s always a hotdog with lots of mustard) and Tina’s girlfriend, Leta, who works at the local library talked Graves into getting a library card, even though he’s not what anyone would call an avid reader.

However, if Graves is entirely honest with himself, it’s not just the food that keeps him coming back to the diner. For a while, he tried to tell himself that he was just waiting for the right moment to tell Credence to keep an eye on his sister, that he worked on the Butcher case and that Modesty fits the description of what the killer would go for.

It takes Graves a while to admit that he’s lying to himself. He keeps coming back for Credence.

* * *

“The usual?” Credence asks him one Thursday morning, which by now has come to mean coffee and bacon with two sunny-side-up eggs. Occasionally, he’ll indulge and have a slice of strudel instead, but not today.

“Yes, please,” Graves says. “Uh, Credence, can I ask you something? Where would I find some used furniture at a reasonable price around here? The house came mostly furnished, but some of it has seen better days. I already tried looking online, but… ”

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” Credence says. “What’s a reasonable price for you?”

“Affordable, you know, a little above poverty range,” Graves finds himself saying. He could easily afford to spend more money, but at this point, he doesn’t know how long he’ll stay in this town, living a life as a stranger. He’s starting to actually enjoy it, but his decision to not invest too much money into the house tells him that his subconscious hasn’t yet accepted it.

“That would be my range, you mean?” Credence asks with a grin that looks a little forced. “Well, off the top of my head, I bought a lot of my furniture at yard sales and stuff like that. You know what, there’s a flea market every weekend, not too far from here. I’ve been a couple of times,” he says and starts rattling off an explanation on how to get there which Graves can barely follow since he doesn’t know the area well enough yet. He’s tempted to just hand Credence his phone and tell him to type in the address, but another far more appealing thought crosses his mind and before he can stop himself, he asks Credence whether he likes shopping and if he’s free next Saturday.

Credence’s eyes grow to the size of saucers. “That’s… uh… yeah,” he says and starts laughing. “I mean, I work the evening shift, but I’m free before that.”

Once Graves gets back into his car and drives to his gas station to begin the work for the day, he’s got Credence’s phone number and he’s wondering if he just asked Credence on a date.

* * *

Come Saturday, Graves is perplexed when he sees Credence drive up to the gas station in a pick-up truck that looks almost new. Usually, Credence drives a battered old Ford Focus.

“Jacob let me borrow his car,” Credence says while Graves climbs into the passenger seat. “Since we might have to transport some furniture, you know.”

“Good thinking,” Graves says as he waves to the backseat, where Modesty and Chastity are seated. Modesty waves back, but Chastity doesn’t even seem to notice him, she’s engrossed in a game she’s playing on her phone.

“Here,” Credence hands him the aux cord as he pulls out of the gas station and onto the street. “Put on whatever you like, as long as it’s appropriate for kids, too.”

Graves searches through the music on his phone. “What do you listen to normally?”

“The charts,” Credence says and floors it the second they’re out of the city limits. “I had a bit of an edgy phase when I was fourteen or fifteen, but I grew out of it.”

“I don’t think I have any music that’s not at least twenty-five years old,” Graves says. “Is Pink Floyd okay?” Graves asks and puts Dark Side of the Moon on shuffle. “I guarantee it’s appropriate. Just tell me if you don’t like it.”

They continue their drive to the flea market, chatting about music and what kind of movies they like. (Credence confesses that he’s seen Casino Royale at least ten times because he thinks Daniel Craig is so hot in that movie.)

The flea market itself is surprisingly well-attended in Graves’ opinion - not that he has a lot of experience when it comes to these things - and he’s slightly overwhelmed at first, asking himself where to start looking for what he needs. However, when he catches Credence’s eye, the young man has a determined look on his face.

With Credence’s help, making their way through the labyrinth of stalls, where everything from books, to clothes, to all sorts of knick-knacks are being sold, the smell of fair food pervading the air… Graves is actually starting to enjoy himself. Credence introduces him to all the vendors he knows - it quickly becomes clear to Graves that Credence and his sisters must have been here more than a couple of times, from the easy way they wind their way through the crowd to the way they seem to have memorized the outline of the stalls.

While they don’t find as much furniture as Graves would have liked, he at least manages to knock a couple of items off his list and each of them for a good price as well. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s missed this, just spending time with people and talking about nothing in particular, with no clear goal in mind. It’s not an interrogation, he doesn’t have to figure out any clues, doesn’t have to get a confession out of someone.

He catches himself thinking that just hearing Credence laugh when Graves tells a joke or makes a sarcastic remark is reward enough and he pretends to be really interested in a pair of 1950s bedside lamps until that bout of insanity passes. Graves mostly succeeds at pushing those thoughts aside - developing a crush on a pretty young thing like Credence? Might as well just say midlife crisis. Still, there’s a persistently treacherous voice inside his head that he can’t quite manage to block out. “Why not?” it says. “What would be the harm in that? He wants you too. Do you see the way he keeps looking at you?”

“Enjoying yourself?” Credence asks. “Back there, I found a stall that sells vinyl records of the music you’re into. The vendor is an artist, she also sells hand-painted record players. They look really cool!”

He lets himself be pulled along and talked into buying a record player and a couple of records. “It’s never too late to start a collection,” the vendor tells him. She’s an authoritative woman called Jocelyn, who reminds Graves of Seraphina.

The record player he bought is a model that’s painted in hues of black, gray and blue and decorated with lots of multi-colored glitter. Graves let Credence choose it.

After purchasing the record player, Graves volunteers to take a trip to the car, to stow away some of their other purchases as well, chiefly among them a bag of books Modesty had bought with two months worth of her pocket money at a stall that sold them dirt cheap.

When he has packed everything safely into the car and gets back to where Credence said he and the girls would wait for him, Graves can’t find them. Not suspecting anything is amiss, at first, he’s craning his neck, trying to spot either Credence, Chastity or Modesty.

Just as he is about to take out his phone and call Credence to ask where they wandered off to, the young man is running towards him, dragging a very pale, wide-eyed Chastity behind himself.

Credence is breathing heavily and his eyes are continuously flitting all over the place. He takes one of Percy’s hands and squeezes it almost violently, trying to pull him into the direction that he just came from. “Thank God, you’re here, Percy, help me look, I can’t find Mo! One moment, she was there and the next she wasn’t, and we’ve been… she doesn’t have a phone… nobody’s seen her… what if someone… ” his voice is shaking too much for him to go on.

“We’ll find her,” Graves says, hoping he sounds calm and reassuring. In reality, he himself is also fighting against the apprehension that’s rising inside of him, the fear that they might find Modesty, but only her broken body, slashed open, her blood soaking the ground around her, creating a sort of twisted halo.

He shakes his head, trying to chase those thoughts away.

“Okay, Credence, Chastity, first of all, you two need to breathe. Just like that,” Graves says, feeling how Credence’s grip on his hand releases so it no longer feels like his bones are being ground against each other. “Good,” he says. “Very good. Alright, now, where did you last see her?”

They search for her again, calling her name, asking vendors if they’ve seen her, and with every negative answer they get, Credence is getting increasingly anxious again and Graves has to call upon all of what’s left of his professionalism and discipline to avoid following Credence into his panic.

In the end, it’s Chastity who spots her.

Modesty is sitting on a swing set, away from the bustle of the flea market, the tips of her shoes dragging over the ground, while she pets a large Golden Retriever. She also appears to be chatting with two men, both of them white and with dark hair. One of them is about Graves’ height, the other one is half a head shorter than that.

The second he sees his sister, Credence lets go of Graves’ and Chastity’s hands and rushes towards Modesty. He envelops her in a hug, while the two men look on the scene with identical looks of… Graves isn’t quite sure what emotion. Embarrassment? Disappointment?

Telling Chastity to stick close to him, he quickly joins Credence, his sister, and the two strangers. He arrives just in time to see Credence pulling Modesty to her feet while giving the two strangers a dirty look. “I already told you to stop bothering me,” Credence hisses. “The same goes for my family.”

“Just think about it one more time, okay?” the taller of the two men says and takes half a step in Credence’s direction. “It… I know I haven’t been… ”

“Langdon?” Credence says. “Forget it. I’m not going to talk to you and I want you to stay away from me and my sisters in the future.”

The shorter man places his hand on Langdon’s forearm and meets Credence’s gaze. “We’re really sorry,” he says. “We don’t want to cause you any harm, you know, I just wish you’d see that, too.”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Credence says and turns his back on them. “Come on, let’s leave.”

“Can I say goodbye to Buttercup first?” Modesty asks.

Buttercup, as it turns out, is the Golden Retriever. 

Modesty gets her wish and Chastity is allowed to pet the dog as well, while Credence keeps eying the two men warily.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” Modesty says, once the girls finally managed to separate themselves from Buttercup, who had clearly enjoyed the attention she’d been getting. “Langdon and Ewan aren’t strangers, we  _ know _ them.”

Credence keeps walking until they’re out of earshot, then he squats down so he’s on eye-level with his youngest sister. “Mo, can you understand where I’m coming from? When I couldn’t find you anymore, I got really scared, because I thought something awful had happened, that someone had taken you away… I was so scared because I want you and Chas to be safe, but in order to keep you safe, I need you to know where you are.”

Modesty shuffles her feet. “I’m sorry I left without saying anything.”

“It’s okay,” Credence says and pulls her into a hug. “But please don’t do it again, alright?” He releases her from the hug and stands back up.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t talk to them, though,” Modesty says.

“Uncle Henry doesn’t like them,” Chastity throws in. “You know that. And we mustn’t do anything to piss him off, you know that, too.”

Graves, up to now feeling rather awkward and out of place during the whole exchange with Langdon, Ewan and Credence’s subsequent talk with Mo, perks up his ears. Who was Uncle Henry?

Credence, who’s now suspiciously red in the face, chides Chastity for her use of language.

“What? Percy swears all the time!”

“Yes, but he’s not… actually, yes, watch your mouth, Percy,” Credence says, forcing himself to be cheerful and not quite succeeding.

Graves, however, decides to play along and doesn’t press Credence with questions regarding this mysterious uncle of his.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. When Credence helps him unpack their purchases back at the gas station, Graves gathers his courage and tells Credence that he enjoyed himself today and would he want to meet up again soon?

Credence almost drops his side of the table that they’re carrying. “I’d love to, really,” he says, so quietly that Graves has to strain his ears to hear it. “But please don’t take this the wrong way when I say I don’t think we should.”

“Why not?”

“I have a boyfriend, and… he wouldn’t like it very much if I spent time with you outside of work,” he whispers.

“You mean he’d get jealous?”

“He’d get… I don’t want to talk about it,” Credence says firmly, as they set down the table in the dining room. “I had a great time today, let’s leave it at that.”

After that, Graves is burning with the need to ask Credence more questions, but whenever he wants to open his mouth, he looks at Credence’s expression, at the vestiges of a profound sadness that wasn’t there before he asked him if he wanted to hang out again, and he keeps his mouth shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very curious to know what you thought about this chapter! If you would like to share your opinion, I'd be delighted!


	3. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos on the last chapter - I'm so glad that you've chosen to give this fic a try!
> 
> So, this chapter is actually the first thing I've ever written for this fic, and then it spiraled out of control into a full-blown, chaptered fanfic. It happens :D
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/), whose beta-reading skills are much appreciated!
> 
> **chapter warning: physical abuse, non-consensual breathplay, unhealthy relationship dynamics (none of these affect Graves/Credence, though)**

It’s another quiet night - too quiet, for Graves’ taste. He’s used to the sounds of a bustling city, and the quiet of the countryside is far from idyllic. In Graves’ opinion, it’s so quiet, it’s almost eerie.

Graves tried to help sleep along with some bourbon. Even though he feels sluggish now, lying in bed and contemplating his bad life choices, sleep doesn’t come.

He tosses and turns; every new position he maneuvers his body into feels more uncomfortable than the previous one. With a sigh, he switches the light on again and takes the novel he’s been telling himself he’s reading from the bedside table and looks for the page he dogeared in lieu of a proper bookmark.

It’s a mindless thriller, the plot is thin enough to see through, but Graves hasn’t read more than a few paragraphs at a time in ages and so he fails to get into the story. He’s missing details, but he doesn’t care for re-reading the beginning of the book.

Graves closes the book and rubs the bridge of his nose. Checking his phone, he realizes that he won’t get enough sleep this night, either. Not even close to enough.

Just when he thinks that he might be drifting off to sleep, he hears the sound of a car pulling up to the gas station outside. There are self-service gas pumps, so he doesn’t worry about it and tries to ignore it. Sleep seems just a few minutes away…

Someone knocks on the front door.

Repeatedly.

Loud enough for Graves to hear it all the way into his second-floor bedroom and persistently enough that he won’t be able to ignore it.

Muttering curses the whole time, Graves gets up and stomps down the stairs, ready to give whoever is disturbing him a piece of mind. If they can’t figure out how self-service pumps work, maybe they shouldn’t be driving in the first place…

When he sees who it is, his heart skips a beat. The fury he felt just moments ago evaporates completely as he unlocks the door and throws it wide open to let Credence and his sisters into the house.

The light in the hallway confirms what Graves only suspected before - Credence’s face is streaked with blood and tears. His right eye is swollen shut.

A quick look at the girls to possibly assess the damage done to them, and Graves breathes easier, if only for just a moment. The girls look frightened, but physically unharmed, at least at first glance.

“I’m sorry,” Credence whimpers and hiccups. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know where to go… ”

“It’s alright,” Graves says and holds up a hand. The boy isn’t making any sense and needs to calm down before they can have any sort of meaningful conversation. “You need a place to sleep?”

Credence nods reluctantly. “Please.”

Graves and Credence, who insisted on helping, prepare one of the guest rooms in the house for the girls. Although Graves had been wary of letting Credence help, what with him being injured, he hadn’t protested too much. Having something to do with your hands, even if it was just looking through cupboards for spare sheets, could help with the shock, at least in Graves’ experience.

Credence puts the girls to bed, telling them to be quiet and try to get some sleep and then rejoins Graves, who’s waiting in the doorway.

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he says, leading Credence into the bathroom. Silently, he’s thanking the gods that he had the common sense to invest in a good first-aid kit when he moved in. While he’s rummaging through the kit, Credence takes a look in the mirror and inhales sharply.

Graves immediately looks up. “Everything alright?”

“I didn’t think it’d look quite as bad.” Credence gingerly sits down at the edge of the bathtub and lifts his hand up to his face, fingertips a fraction of an inch away from touching his swollen eye. “I’m so sorry,” he says, gesturing to the first-aid kit. “I’m sorry for causing… I just… ”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Graves reaches out, slowly enough for Credence to be able to observe his movements and understand what he’s doing. He takes Credence’s hands into his and turns them so they’re facing upwards while running his thumbs in soothing circles over Credence’s palms. “I don’t mind, okay?”

“Okay,” Credence whispers.

Maybe it’s just the bathroom light, but the skin of his palms looks a little odd. At times, it almost appears silvery - it takes Graves a moment to realize he’s looking at old scars, the evidence of past abuse crisscrossing Credence’s palms.

“Do you want to talk about what happened to you?”

Credence looks down, seems to be fighting with himself for a moment, but eventually shakes his head.

“That’s alright,” Graves says. “But if you change your mind, I’m here to listen, however much or little you want to tell me. Just remember that, okay?”

Credence nods, still not meeting Graves’ eye.

Fighting against the feeling of discouragement, he starts cleaning Credence’s face and assessing the damage. Fortunately, it looks worse than it is. Credence’s nose is not broken and the nosebleed has almost stopped completely at this point.

The eye seems to be the worst.

“That’s going to be a shiner,” Graves says, as he hands Credence an ice pack, which he carefully presses to his eye. “You’ll have some explaining to do when you show up to work looking like that.”

Credence mumbles something which awfully sounds like ‘wouldn’t be the first time’, and Graves packs up the first-aid kit and stows it away again. “I… thank you for letting me… thanks for helping me.”

“It’s okay, really. Always happy to help, even if I don’t look like it.” Graves tries to laugh, but it comes out sounding strange, more like a bark than anything else. “Where do you want to sleep? I have two more guest bedrooms, honestly, this house is too big for me… ”

“Please don’t bother,” Credence says quickly. “I can take the couch. Honestly, I’m just happy that the girls have a room.”

“The couch?” Graves asks. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He gets Credence a pillow and a blanket and watches as he settles in on the couch in the living room downstairs, tucking the blanket almost up to his nose and rearranging the ice pack so that it still covers his swollen eye.

“You’re comfortable, yeah?”

Credence nods.

“Then... ” he catches himself in time before he says ‘good night’. “See you in the morning?” he says and turns to the stairs to return to his bedroom.

“Percy?”

Graves stops and turns around, almost afraid to ask, because Credence’s voice had been so quiet and feeble. Maybe he imagined it - wishful thinking, his tired brain fantasizing about being needed by Credence, about the boy trusting him enough to spill his secrets to him.

Seraphina would hit him over the head if she could hear his thoughts. He ought to be content just to help Credence, and not take pride in the fact that the boy wanted his help.

Still, he says yes, what is it and returns to Credence’s side.

“Can you stay for a minute?” Credence asks and sits up, wrapping the blanket around himself. “You said you’d listen if I had anything to say about what happened.”

“Yes,” he says and sits down in an armchair. Sitting down on the sofa, he thinks, that would be too much. He doesn’t want Credence to feel threatened.

“So,” Credence says and takes a couple of deep breaths. “My boyfriend did this, but I don’t think this is a surprise for you.”

It’s not, but Graves doesn’t say so. Instead, he just waits.

“I mean, boyfriend isn’t really… he’s more like a guy I’ve been sleeping with… for the past few years? We never… he’s married, you know? At first, he told me he just needed time, that he was waiting for the right moment to tell his wife. After a while, he stopped telling me that and I guess I’d stopped believing him, too, even before that. He keeps paying my rent, though, as long as I keep my mouth shut and well, my legs spread,” Credence says, faint hysteria in his voice. He adjusts the ice-pack. “Doesn’t that… I guess you’re disgusted now, aren’t you?”

“I’m not going to judge you, if that’s what you mean,” Graves says. “People tend to have reasons for what they do and it’s often better to listen to them than to just condemn them for actions that one doesn’t understand.”

Credence opens his mouth, as if to reply, but closes it again after just one second.

“And no, if you need to hear it, I’m not disgusted. Why would I be? I don’t need to have opinions on things that don’t concern me,” he says.

Credence’s eyes seem to be growing ever larger, the longer Graves is speaking. “It doesn’t bother you at all?”

He shakes his head. “So you had an affair with a married man and he paid your rent,” Graves sums up. “And apparently, if he did that to you, he didn’t treat you well, at least not tonight.” Graves gestures to Credence’s face.

“That’s why I feel… I feel so stupid,” Credence admits. “I knew he hasn’t been treating me like… well, like partners should treat each other. But I never did anything about it, I kept telling myself that it’s okay, I can take it because having him pay the rent was… if he hadn’t done it, it would have made things a lot more difficult for the girls and me.” He frowns, staring off into space. “And so I… I never stood up for myself, you know? I even like it rough and kinky, you know, it’s not like that, but sometimes he just takes it too far. One time he choked me and when I panicked and tried to get him to stop, he got really… I was afraid he wouldn’t stop.” Credence violently wipes his good eye with the back of his hand. “He did, eventually, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, telling you that, but when I asked him not to do it again, he seemed surprised and hurt that I didn’t trust him. He apologized, and he was really nice about it, too, but when I think back to how he looked at me when he… I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

“That’s not… ” Graves begins but closes his mouth again. He doesn’t know what to say in response to that, only that he’s glad that Credence is, in fact, sitting here today, beaten, certainly, but alive and with the potential for recovery.

“I think he just used me to do all the stuff he didn’t dare do to his wife. Mrs. Shaw doesn’t seem to be the type to be into much more than the most boring vanilla sex there is,” he says, lips curling into a bitter smile. “Right, I forgot you’re new around here. The Shaw name doesn’t mean much to you yet, does it?”

“Shaw… you mean… wait, you don’t mean… ?”

“The mayor,” Credence replies. “Henry Shaw Jr. You must have seen him around town - early forties, greyish hair, dark eyes?”

“Yeah, I think I know who you mean. And that explains a whole lot.” Graves massages his temples, trying to combat the dull headache that’s been building up during the conversation with Credence so far. “I would have suggested you go to the police, but I suppose if he’s the mayor, then he’s got his people there.”

“Henry and Gellert - he’s the local chief of police - are good friends,” Credence says. “They share. Taste, information, partners… I don’t have anything against threesomes and it wasn’t even  _ bad _ , but I still want to be asked beforehand and not just introduced to the ‘friend of mine who’s going to join us tonight’.”

Graves suppresses the urge to grimace. “Okay, so the police doesn’t seem to be an option… ”

“I mean, there’s Tina,” Credence throws in. “Queenie’s sister, she’s a policewoman, you must have seen her at the diner? Tall, shoulder-length brown hair... ”

“The uniform was a dead giveaway,” Graves says.

“Right,” Credence says, and almost smiles for the first time in what feels like an eternity to Graves. “I think I could tell her, and she might believe me, but I don’t want to get her in trouble with her boss. I shouldn’t even be telling you about it, to be honest.”

“Why not?” Graves asks and leans forward, trying to catch Credence’s eye. It’s so easy to fall back into old habits. Is he having a conversation with Credence or is he interviewing a witness?

“Henry said he’d make sure I’d never find another job again in the area if I snitched on him,” Credence admits and starts tearing off tiny pieces of skin from his cuticles until they’re bleeding. “I mean, he was drunk when he said it, and in a mood, but _still_ … please don’t talk about it with anyone else.”

Graves mimes zipping his mouth shut. “Nobody is going to hear anything from me, I promise.”

Credence smiles for real this time, and maybe it’s the late hour and the residue of alcohol in his veins that makes Graves think that Credence is really very pretty, no matter the black eye, the split lip, and the chipped incisor.

“What did you fight about tonight, anyway?” Graves asks before he can stop himself.

Credence’s smile falters. “It was… at first, he was accusing me of cheating on him, because I sometimes let a good friend of mine stay at my apartment, but we’re not… her home life isn’t good and sometimes, when she needs a safe place to stay, I let her… we’re just friends, she’s not into men, I’m not into women, so… anyway, then he said I scratched him on purpose during sex, that his wife had been getting suspicious and giving him shit for it. He doesn’t want me to leave any marks, I know that, and I told him that. Whoever scratched him, it wasn’t me, and I said if he has a problem with that, he should sort it out with whoever it was who left the marks. That’s when he got furious. I’ve seen him in a bad mood, often, but never like that.” Credence adjusts the ice-pack and wraps the blanket tighter around his thin shoulders. “I was scared I wouldn’t get out a--” He visibly shivers. “I just took the girls and ran, don’t ask me how I made it to the car, I was… I was sort of running on autopilot.”

He could ask why Credence decided to come to him for help. A part of him wants to pry, wants to hear Credence tell him that he thinks of Graves as safe, that he trusts him and that he likes him. He doesn’t, of course, he’d already been pushing it when he asked about the reason for Credence’s fight with the mayor.

“For what it’s worth,” Graves begins awkwardly. “I’m glad you made it here safely.”

“Me too,” Credence whispers, so quietly that Graves has to strain his ears to hear it.

“You said you just came here as quickly as you could. I guess that means you didn’t bring a lot of things with you?”

Credence shakes his head. “I-I think it’s going to be safe to go back in the morning,” he says. “He can’t wait around for me to come back all day, can he?”

“I could come with you if you think that might help?” Graves offers. “And if you don’t feel safe staying at your apartment, you and the girls are more than welcome to stay here for a couple of days, until things calm down with… him.”

Credence’s good eye widens. “Really? I promise, the girls are going to behave, you won’t even notice that we’re staying here, I’ll--”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Graves says. “Like I said, you’re more than welcome here. Now, try to get some sleep and we’ll talk about it in the morning. Sounds like a plan?”

Credence worries his teeth over his bottom lip and nods. “Okay,” he says. “Goodnight, Percy.”

“Goodnight, Credence,” Graves says, resists the urge to ruffle Credence’s hair as he gets up and makes his way towards the stairs. “Sweet dreams,” he says, as he turns off the light in the living room.

Before he goes to bed, he checks on Credence’s sisters. Both girls are sleeping soundly, and he makes sure to close the door as quietly as possible so he doesn’t wake them.

When he lies down in his own bed again, Graves yawns. Taking care of Credence, getting them all settled in, it’s been exhausting. He’s asleep in a matter of minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter!


	4. May (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos on the last chapter!
> 
> Credit for beta-reading goes, as always, to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **no chapter warnings apply**

Graves feels like he spends the majority of the next two weeks driving back and forth between the gas station and Credence’s apartment, transporting the possessions of the Barebones to their temporary home, until Credence finds a new place to live, one to which Mayor Shaw doesn’t have the keys.

Ever since Credence and his sisters officially moved in, though, Credence hasn’t been looking for a new apartment, and if he’s being honest with himself, Graves also doesn’t want him to. Not being alone anymore is a welcome change and the house is more than large enough to accommodate Credence and the two girls.

Chastity and Modesty had been thrilled when they realized they’d be able to have their own rooms and had been busy decorating ever since. Graves thought it was all very cute.

He’d expected that adjusting to his new housemates would be difficult - he hadn’t shared his living space with anyone ever since he’d graduated from college, had never moved in with any of his partners in the past and had always preferred to live alone.

Still, having _Credence_ around is proving to be a bit of a challenge. Graves is falling fast, he knows himself well enough to recognize the signs, and he has to tell himself that it’s okay for him to feel that way about Credence, but he needs to keep it under control. It might make Credence uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing he wants.

“You’re thinking,” Credence says and playfully nudges him with his elbow. “Why don’t you stop that and help me with dinner?”

“It only has to be microwaved!” Graves gestures at the boxes of leftovers Credence was allowed to bring home from work tonight.

“True,” Credence says. “Which means you can set the table!”

“Yes, dear,” Graves replies drily and rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. He starts gathering cutlery, plates, and napkins for four. It’s a warm and mild evening, so they decided to take advantage of the large porch at the back of the house and have dinner outside. He sets the table and when he returns to the kitchen, he asks, “What’s wrong with thinking anyway?”

“Nothing, but it makes you look grumpy and I’m not sure if I like it.”

“I promise, I wasn’t angry, I was really just thinking,” Graves says. “And, just so you know, if I ever have a problem, I’ll talk to you about it. Respectfully,” he adds and hates the fact that he even feels the need to clarify that, but ever since he effectively moved in, Credence has told Graves more stories about Mayor Shaw.

In the past, Percival Graves would have never thought of himself as any kind of moral authority - there was the law, and he was there to enforce it, but he wouldn’t get sentimental about it. Now, he’s starting to think he might be a much better man than he ever gave himself credit for.

“What were you thinking about?” Credence asks. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay,” he adds quickly. He’s likely scared of prying too much, Graves thinks. He can relate too well.

“About how I never thought I’d take care of kids and enjoy it,” Graves says. “Sometimes I forget they’re your sisters, to be honest. Not that I know much about raising children, but from what I can see, I think you’re doing a great job.”

Credence’s cheeks take on a lovely shade of pink and he busies himself with putting the food in the microwave before he looks at Graves again. “Thank you.” He ducks his head and fidgets a little. “It’s not that difficult, really. If I don’t know what to do, I just ask myself ‘What would Ma do?’ and then I do the exact opposite.”

Seeing as Credence’s parenting style seems to involve honest conversations, age-appropriate explanations of problems the family is facing and, above all, lots of love and affection, Graves doesn’t want to imagine what Credence’s mother’s methods might have looked like. Still, from the way Credence’s palms and forearms are littered with old scars, he can make a fair guess.

Sometimes, he feels furious on Credence’s behalf, angry and sad that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent the abuse when it had happened. Another part of him feels a strange sort of warmth and pride at the knowledge that Credence is choosing to be kind and loving towards his sisters, even though growing up, he has gotten to know violence and cruelty only too well.

“Sorry.” Credence gives him an apologetic look. “I made this awkward, didn’t I?”

“No!” Graves throws in, quickly, lest Credence think he did something wrong. “No, you didn’t. I was just trying to tell you that I’m impressed by how well you’re handling the responsibility.”

Credence shrugs, ostensibly nonchalant, but his cheeks redden even more. “There’s nothing impressive about it, really,” he says. “Letting my fo--... I mean, letting Henry pay the rent in exchange for continuing to be his dirty little secret, it wasn’t that difficult.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know, I’ve seen people with good intentions and much more life experience than you’ve got do a much worse job at parenting,” Graves says. “I was really only trying to compliment you, it was not a veiled insult if that’s what you thought.”

He’s trying to come up with a way to carefully broach the topic of why Credence seems to feel the need to bring up his past arrangement with Mayor Shaw again and again. Over the past few weeks, Graves has started to suspect it’s a defense mechanism - as if putting himself down before Graves would keep them from getting too close, both literally and figuratively.

Before he can think of a suitable approach, the microwave chimes and Credence is already busying himself with carrying the hot food outside. “Chas, Mo, dinner is ready! Don’t forget to wash your hands!” he calls.

Graves thinks he should set an example as well, washes his hands and, for good measure, splashes some cold water on the back of his neck. He has a feeling he’s going to need to keep a clear head, especially with the conversation he’s planning on having with Credence later.

He’s craving a stiff drink…

“Percy?” Credence calls from the back door. “Are you coming or not? The food’s going to get cold.”

“Coming!”

* * *

After dinner, Credence puts his sisters to bed and then joins Graves on the couch in the living room. Graves lets Credence choose a movie, but neither of them is paying much attention to it.

“It’s a big deal for you, isn’t it?” Graves says after they both pretended to watch for about half an hour. He takes a sip of his water, wishing it were liquor with the power to burn down his throat, lower his inhibitions and loosen his tongue. “Me letting you and your sisters stay here.”

Credence squints like he’s not sure what Graves just said. He picks up the remote and mutes the TV. “Of course it’s a big deal for me. I’m no longer dependent on Henry now, am I?” he says with a strange tone of voice. “What are you getting at?”

“I wanted to ask you about your… your arrangement with Henry Shaw, actually,” Graves says. “And why you keep bringing it up.”

“Because whether I like it or not, it was a large part of my life during the last couple of years, it impacted my choices and options and I’m going to need time to recover from it,” Credence says and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “If you don’t want me talking to you about it, then okay, just say it and I won’t bother you any longer.”

“No, I… I didn’t mean it that way,” Graves corrects himself. “You’re more than welcome to talk to me if you want to, but I have the feeling that you’re not really prepared to discuss it. Sometimes, I get the impression that you’re just bringing it up to see if I’ll flinch or not. I told you, I’m not disgusted and no matter how often you bring it up, I won’t suddenly change my opinion and start judging you.”

Credence looks him straight in the eye. “I don’t understand you, Percy. What are you waiting for, then?”

“What should I be waiting for?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Credence gestures wildly. “The right moment to make a move? I don’t… at least with Henry, I knew what he expected from me and I could act accordingly. With you, I don’t know what you want from me! I mean, I have an idea or two. Otherwise you wouldn’t have offered me a place to stay just after I told you how I paid the rent for my last place, right?”

Graves’ jaw goes slack and his mouth falls open in surprise. “I--” he tries to speak, but he can’t find any words, gobsmacked as he is. “You… I mean, is that really what you think?”

Credence shrugs. “It wouldn’t be anything new for me.”

“If my offer came across that way, then I’m sorry,” he says. “For me, it was obvious that I would not ask for any form of payback. Think of it as an invitation… a gift of sorts, if you will.”

“But… that’s… ” Credence stammers, as if he has trouble grasping the concept of hospitality with no strings attached.

“Will you believe me when I say that I’m genuinely happy that you and your sisters are staying with me, for no other reason than the fact that I like having you around?”

Credence shakes his head, clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t take advantage of the situation when you could. And before you say anything, Percy, I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

Graves runs his hand through his hair. “Okay,” he sighs. “I happen to think you’re very, very pretty and cute and yes, I like you. But I promise I would never make a move or start demanding anything from you. If that makes you uncomfortable, I won’t be offended if you want to move out.”

“You could,” Credence says, his voice sounds weirdly high-pitched. “Make a move, I mean. I wouldn’t… even fucking Henry wasn’t the worst thing in the world and… everyone’s going to think we’re fucking anyway, so you might as well… ”

Graves gets up, muttering under his breath. He can’t do this, he’s much too sober to have a conversation like that with Credence. It’s not the first time he’s been propositioned like that - not that he ever agreed to it - but somehow, Credence offering himself to him like that? It stings.

“Percy?”

“Please,” Graves says, holding up his hand to stop Credence from talking. “I’m aware that I have a bit more power here since I’m the person owning the house you’re living in. I’m not sure what kind of man you think I am, but I would never exploit that position to take advantage of you. I like you, yes, but you don’t owe me anything, okay?”

“Percy… ” Credence begins, looking at him with an expression Graves can’t read. If this were a normal conversation, he’d say Credence looked disappointed, but right now, he doesn’t dare trust his instincts.

“Please, let’s just… let’s just forget about it, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to yawn. How hasn’t he noticed before how tired he is? “We’ll… if you still want to live here, we should get all that paperwork sorted out soon, so it’s official. If not… well, just think about it and tell me in the morning.”

Graves flees the room without turning back, without saying goodnight to Credence. He feels awful, but he can’t make himself face the boy again, at least not tonight.

The next morning, Graves scowls at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and, on a whim, decides it’s time for a little change in appearance.

After an intermezzo with the beard trimmer and the razor, his face is clean-shaven once more. He nicked himself in the cheek once, but all in all, he’s happy with the result - he looks about ten years younger, more like his former self before he got obsessed with the case that cost him his career.

He also decides to start sampling the local gyms and look for one that fits his needs - he neglected his body during the last six months and getting back into a regular workout regime isn’t going to hurt him.

Theseus and Seraphina would both roll their eyes and call him vain, and Graves wouldn’t even protest.

Appearances, as he knows, count for something.

If Graves is potentially going to have to deal with well-connected assholes in expensive suits, like Henry Shaw Jr., looking like an arrogant, self-assured businessman is going to be better than looking like the burned out detective that he really is.

When he goes down to the kitchen, he finds Chastity and Modesty on the kitchen table, eating cornflakes for breakfast. Credence is leaning on the counter, a coffee mug cradled between his hands. He looks up when Graves enters the kitchen. Their eyes meet; Credence’s face flushes a dark shade of red, no doubt he’s recalling last night’s conversation.

“Good morning,” Graves says, pouring himself a cup of coffee. After taking one sip, he does add a little milk and sugar to it. Credence brews a much stronger coffee than Graves himself does, and the bitterness is more than he can handle.

Breakfast is an awkward affair, and if the kids weren’t present, Graves is reasonably sure that they wouldn’t talk at all. As it is, Credence fusses over his sisters more than usual - Modesty accepts it, Chastity says that Credence needn’t bother since she’s not a child anymore and can take care of herself.

They don’t get an opportunity to talk all morning, and in the evening, Graves is too exhausted to bring it up. That seems to suit Credence just fine.

It continues like this for the next few weeks - they’re friendly with each other, but not exactly comfortable. Often, Graves finds himself missing the days just after Credence moved in when it had felt like living together would be _easy_. Now, there’s an emotional obstacle between them, and Graves knows fully well that his decision to talk about Credence’s tendency to bring up his past arrangement with Mayor Shaw had been the cause of that.

If only he could turn back the time… During his career, he found himself hoping for that often enough, usually during a murder investigation, staring at photos of victims, of people he hadn’t been able to save.

However, if things with Credence are going to be awkward and distant for the foreseeable future, he can at least make an effort and make the boy’s sisters feel welcome in his home.

So far, he’s found out that Chastity appreciates getting help doing her maths homework - she’s struggling with the subject and often needs multiple explanations until she fully grasps a concept. Graves hasn’t asked her yet, but he has the nagging suspicion that she tried to keep her difficulties with the subject a secret from Credence as best as she could, not due to shame, but because she doesn’t want to bother him.

The girl’s too perceptive for her own good and some remarks she makes about ‘Uncle Henry’ make Graves’ hair stand on end. Old habits die hard, he knows that, and he actively has to suppress his instincts that tell him to interrogate her, to get her to tell him everything she knows about Henry Shaw Jr. and her brother.

Modesty is easier - she’s an incredibly bright child, as he discovers, and when he asked her if _she_ needed any help with schoolwork, she gave him a look that oscillated somewhere between pity and disbelief. “Homework is so easy that it’s boring,” she said while filling out a worksheet for English with neatly printed letters. “But I don’t wanna live with Ma again,” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“Credence said that if I don’t do my homework, he could get in trouble and they might try to take us away from him again.”

“And living with Credence is better than living with Ma?” Graves asked.

Modesty didn’t answer, but gave him a look that said ‘Are you kidding me?’

He didn’t try to ask after the Barebone siblings’ mother again.

Still, he finds out that Modesty likes stories, as evidenced by the small pile of books from her school library that’s always sitting at her bedside table.

“Aren’t they a bit above your reading level?” he asks one evening when he’s putting her to bed. He picks up one of the books on Modesty’s reading pile that has to be at least 300 pages or more.

“Reading levels are stupid,” Modesty declares, takes the book from Graves’ hand and puts it back on the pile. “I’m not scared of big books… except for the Bible, maybe.”

Graves bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “The Bible is scary?”

“It’s Ma’s favorite book,” Modesty says. “And Ma is really scary.”

Graves can’t argue with that.

In addition to reading, however, Modesty also likes being read to. Credence had hardly ever had the time to do so - either he’d been too tired after a long day at work, or Uncle Henry had been over for a visit. Ma had never read to them, either, or at least not the stories that Modesty was interested in, which had little to do with biblical themes.

He’s reading her ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves’, from an old edition of a fairy tale collection. Graves can’t recall the Disney cartoon having included the evil queen to demand Snow White’s lungs and liver in order to eat them.

Modesty, however, doesn’t mind and after being asked if she really wanted to hear that version of the story, Graves continues reading. He really gets into it after a few pages, and when he gets to the end, he’s even started doing different voices for the different characters.

He ends up reading her two additional stories, ‘The Snow Queen’ (with Modesty remarking that the story is ‘not at all like the movie’) and ‘The Ugly Duckling’. By the end, Modesty’s eyelids are drooping and she’s clearly fighting to stay awake.

He puts down the book, gets up and gets out of her room as quietly as possible. The last thing he sees before closing the door is Modesty, snuggling closer to one of her stuffed animals. There’s a large smile on her face.

On his way to his own bedroom, he stops in the hallway when he hears strange noises coming from Credence’s room. While he doesn’t want to intrude in Credence’s privacy, he can’t help knocking on the door - it sounds like Credence is sobbing his heart out.

He doesn’t get an answer, so he knocks again, a bit more insistent this time.

When Credence still doesn’t answer - if anything, the sobbing gets louder, but it might be his imagination - Graves carefully opens the door.

Unfortunately, his suspicions are proven correct.

Graves finds Credence sitting on his bed, face flushed bright red and wet with tears. He looks up for a second when Graves enters the room, buries his face in his hands again, and sobs even louder than before.

“Hey,” Graves mumbles, crossing the distance between them with a few long strides. “What do you… ?” he begins as he sits down next to Credence, but he can’t even get half the question out before Credence has launched himself into his arms, holding on to Graves for dear life.

Graves doesn’t know how long they sit like this - him, hugging Credence whose body is shaking in time with his sobs. He’s gently stroking Credence’s hair and mumbling empty platitudes into his ear. “I promise, it’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be alright.”

Finally, Credence calms down and releases Graves from the embrace. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Graves says and before he can stop himself, he reaches out and cups Credence’s cheek with one hand, sweeping his thumb over one sharp cheekbone. He drops his hand after a moment, not sure if Credence welcomes this level of familiarity - trust is a fragile thing.

“Percy?” Credence asks, voice still husky from his crying fit. “I saw what you… that you read to Mo and… You said you liked me, didn’t you? It that’s still true then please… can you… could you… ”

“What is it?” he asks.

Credence takes a shaky breath. His eyes are red-rimmed, still wet with unshed tears. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers.

Graves blinks, momentarily perplexed. Did Credence really mean what he just said now? “Yes,” Graves says, just to see if he imagined it.

Credence leans towards him, slowly, as though he’s scared that Graves might balk if he moved too quickly. The first kiss is just a peck, really, but the kisses deepen quickly and something within Graves’ chest howls in victory, delighting in how right it feels to hold Credence in his arms and to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, they've kissed - finally! :D I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter, if you'd like to share your opinion. Comments, asks, messages... any kind of feedback is appreciated <3
> 
> (News: I'm also writing a prequel one-shot for this verse, which tells the story of how Credence came to be in a relationship with Henry Shaw Jr. in the first place. So, stay tuned for that!)


	5. May (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos on the previous chapter - I really appreciate hearing from you!
> 
> **chapter warning: scars, references to self-harm, references to unsafe BDSM, references to underage**
> 
> Many thanks to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading!

The first coherent thought that slowly enters Credence’s brain through a haze of lust and excitement: Percy’s lips are surprisingly soft and Credence loves the way they are moving against his own.

The second thought follows suit. ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ he thinks and keeps his eyes squeezed shut, scared that otherwise he might wake up from this wonderful dream he must be having. Still, the way Percy pulls him closer feels decidedly real and whenever Credence dreamed or imagined him and Percy kissing, they never did so right after Credence had bawled his eyes out.

He pulls away and opens his eyes, coming face to face with Percy, who looks at Credence like he’s not sure what expression is appropriate for the situation. Credence can discern surprise, disbelief, and something that looks a lot like awe. It makes him smile. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Percy echoes and mirrors Credence’s smile.

Percy leans in and kisses him, painfully slowly, in a way that makes Credence ache for more. The rational part of his brain tells him that they should take it slow, one step at a time, but a more primal part wonders how much better it could get. They’re already on the bed, it would be so easy to just lay down, pull Percy on top of him and let one thing lead to another.

Before Credence can make up his mind, Percy pulls away. “What are we doing here?” he asks, slightly out of breath.

“Kissing,” Credence says and gets the urge to laugh hysterically. After months of pining ever since the day Percy wandered into Queenie’s diner for the first time, locked eyes with Credence and made him feel hot and cold all over, they’ve finally kissed.

“Obviously,” Percy says, rolling his eyes. “Let me try again: Why are we kissing?”

“Because I like you.” Credence interlaces his fingers at the back of Percy’s neck. “And because I wanted to do this for a very long time,” he admits and ducks his head. “But I didn’t know how to… I thought you’d ask me for sex sooner or later, anyway, and I’d just have to wait. This is going to sound stupid, but I’m not used to being the one who… well… ” he falters, suddenly too embarrassed to continue speaking about that topic with Percy. He buries his face in the crook where Percy’s neck meets his shoulder. “You know what I mean, don’t you?” he mumbles against Percy’s skin.

“You’re not… uh… used to doing the pursuing, you mean?” Percy says, petting Credence’s hair with one hand. “I suppose you’re used to being propositioned by men like me? Or, at least,  _ a man _ like me?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Credence says, meeting Percy’s gaze once more. “I never had to ask myself… Henry just made demands and that was… in a way, it was easy with him. I never had to think about what it is that I actually want, let alone figure out how to ask for it.”

Percy furrows his brows and for one frightening second, Credence thinks he made him angry by mentioning another man in this situation - his ex, no less. Henry would never have accepted that… What is  _ wrong _ with him?

He’s starting to apologize, but Percy shushes him. “You didn’t know how to ask for what you wanted? Is that why you kept bringing it up? Were you trying to give me  _ ideas _ ?”

Credence runs his thumb over Percy’s bottom lip. “I should have just told you that I wanted you,” he whispers.

Percy reaches for Credence’s wrist and presses his lips to his pulse point, gently scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin. “That would have made things a little easier, yeah. For what it’s worth, I’m glad we figured it out now.”

Credence scoots back a little further onto the bed so that he’s now lying on his side, looking up at Percy. “I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to take advantage of you or that I’m… ”

Percy reaches out and takes one of Credence’s hands into his, interlacing their fingers. “What is it?”

“I like you, and I want to sleep with you,” Credence says quickly. “But I don’t want this to sound like I’m just trying to get into your good graces so you’ll let me stay at your house. I want more than that, I… we’re friends, aren’t we? I wanna know if we can be more than that.”

“You want to date?”

He blinks. “Yeah,” he says. “If you wouldn’t be ashamed,” he adds quickly.

“Why would I feel  _ ashamed _ ?”

“I’m scared that you think I’m not good enough for you,” Credence admits and starts chewing on his fingernails for a second before he realizes what he’s doing and tells himself to stop. He’s feeling slightly nauseous. “You’d be… look, I know people are talking behind my back in this town, and they’re not saying particularly nice things about me. If we’re going to be dating, then you’re going to be the talk of the town, too.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Percy asks and maneuvers himself into a lying position, next to Credence. He’s propping his head up with one hand and uses the other to brush a strand of hair out of Credence’s face.

“I just thought you should know in advance so that there won’t be any nasty surprises for you.”

Percy shakes his head with a self-deprecating grin. “Credence, I’m an ex-cop and I was laid off because I got too obsessed with a case,” he says. “If the people around here knew that, they’d talk behind my back, too.”

“Oh.” Credence thinks back to the first few times they’d seen each other, back at the diner. He’d thought Percy looked lost, like a man who wasn’t sure what to do with his life. “What kind of case was it?”

Percy closes his eyes for a moment and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to talk about it,” he mutters. “One day, I’m going to tell you all about it, if you want me to, but I’m not ready for that.”

“That’s okay,” Credence says. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, you couldn’t have known,” Percy says. “There’s just… I was at a pretty low point in life, I drank too much, I was awful to my friends and colleagues and did some other stuff I’m not proud of… I’m trying to get over it, and I bought the gas station as… as an attempt to start over.”

Credence can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to the story than Percy is telling him, but he doesn’t want to pressure him into anything. If everything goes well, they’ll have lots of time to talk and figure things out together.

“You know, while we’re speaking of nasty surprises,” Credence begins, feeling feverish all of a sudden.

Percy’s already accepted so many of his shortcomings that Henry used to cite as dealbreakers - he was so young, he was taking care of two children, he wasn’t very bright, which was why he was working a dead-end job… Henry never seemed to run out of reasons, and after a while, Credence had just accepted that he’d never ask his wife for a divorce. Carol Shaw, a blonde former beauty queen from a rich family, the mother of his three children is just too perfect to give up. Henry has a reputation to uphold, after all.

“What do you mean, nasty surprises?” Percy begins, confused.

“I have scars,” Credence says. “And I want you to see them. If you’re grossed out, just tell me now and we’ll forget this ever happened. I just don’t want to get too involved with you and then have you decide that the scars bother you, or something. I don’t want to get hurt like that.”

“That’s okay, but I’ve seen your arms and the scars don’t bother me at all,” Percy says. He laughs and continues, “I mean, I have a scar on my stomach from when I got my appendix removed, and none of my partners have ever complained… ”

Credence averts his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about the scars on my arms,” he cuts in, and before Percy can say anything in response, he sits up and takes off his T-shirt. “There,” he says, turning his back on Percy. “That’s what I was talking about.”

Percy makes a small sound - Credence can’t identify if he’s shocked or disgusted by the sight. He can only wonder what Percy’s thinking, now that he’s seeing old scars, stretched with age, from when his mother used to beat him bloody, but also... 

“Some of them can’t be older than a few months, at the very most,” Percy says.

Credence can’t tell if he sounds disappointed or angry. “Henry used whips that drew blood,” he says. “Lots of blood.”

“There are safer ways to incorporate whips… there’s always a chance that it’ll scar, but not like  _ that _ . Were you okay with it or… ?”

“He didn’t use them often, because he knew I didn’t like it, but sometimes he managed to talk me into it,” Credence explains. “It wasn’t always easy to tell him no if you know what I mean,” he adds, making a move to put his shirt back on again.

“Wait a minute.”

Credence does as he’s told. He’s sitting there, with no idea what Percy might want to do to him and he notices that his heart rate is speeding up. It gets a little harder to breathe. Just as he’s about to tell Percy that he doesn’t want to do whatever it is that he has in mind, he feels Percy’s lips against his lower back, kissing a spot where Credence knows the deepest and freshest scar is located.

“I don’t mind your scars,” Percy says, his breath tickling Credence’s skin. He kisses another few scars, slowly working his way up Credence’s back until he reaches the nape of Credence’s neck and is loosely hugging him from behind. “Scars or not, I think you’re very beautiful,” Percy whispers into Credence’s ear.

Credence turns around, so he’s facing Percy. He searches his face for any sign that he might be lying, that he’s just telling him what he wants to hear, but he doesn’t find any. Percy’s expression is earnest, and a little besotted, if he’s being honest with himself. Could he really be telling the truth?

Before Credence can get a question out, Percy reaches out, takes one of Credence’s hands and presses first a kiss to his open palm, where Ma used to hit him when he’d still been very young and then up his forearm, which is crisscrossed with scars Credence inflicted on himself when he’d been struggling with anxiety and depression while in foster care with the Shaws.

He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, he tells himself to focus on Percy, who’s been kind to him, who’s helped him, and to try not to think of Henry, his former foster father turned clandestine lover.

“Percy, I really want to kiss you right now,” Credence says and follows his words up with actions.

They don’t do much more than make out that evening and talk about the future, how they should go about dating when they’re housemates, what will they tell Mo and Chas if it gets serious, how to deal with the rumor mill.

The next morning, when Credence gets ready to leave for work, he steals a kiss or two from Percy when he says goodbye to him. He walks to his car with a spring in his step and realizes that he hasn’t felt this happy and unburdened in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to know what you thought about the chapter - if you feel like sharing your thoughts and opinions, I would be delighted!
> 
> Also, stay tuned for a little surprise next week!


	6. May (III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise - my dear friend writingramblr agreed to collab with me on and wrote two chapters for this fic, the first of which you'll be able to read today! This collab has been a long time coming and working together has been lots of fun <333
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos on the previous chapter, I appreciate your support so so much <3
> 
> And as usual, a huge thank you goes out to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading!
> 
> **chapter warnings: explicit sexual content, anal fingering, anal sex, bottom!Percival Graves, top!Credence Barebone, slight D/s undertones if you squint, daddy kink, spanking**

Graves stands on the threshold of his bedroom door. Everything from last night flashes through his head. Finding Credence in tears, the revelations about his scars, the kisses, and how much more he wants.

Upon arriving home, Credence insists on the need for a shower, citing his long workday. The prospect of seeing Credence fresh and glowing pink, clad in nothing but a towel is too much to miss. So Graves waits, and catches a glimpse of the boy, using one smaller towel on his hair, which has grown out almost past his jawline, curling under his ears as it dries.

“Hey,” Credence whispers.

Graves finds himself blinking, staring, forcing himself to look up to meet those wide brown eyes.

“Hi,” he rasps.

Credence approaches him, and smiles, draping the second towel around his bare shoulders, mercifully hiding some of his naked skin.

Graves clears his throat and smiles back. “Do you wanna, uh--” He breaks off, half afraid to suggest they go to bed before they’ve had dinner.

Credence’s gaze flickers past him, towards the inside of his room. He’s only been in there a few times, and Graves has often forced himself to bite his tongue, lest he ask if Credence wants to stay with him. Even just to sleep.

Now that things have… progressed between them, the mere idea he could have this is appealing.

“I’m just gonna go pop in and rinse off my sweat, too,” Graves finally mumbles out.

Credence licks his lips before tilting his head and letting his eyes sweep down Graves’ body.

“You smell just fine. Don’t worry, though, I’ll wait for you. Right here.”

He moves past Graves and lets their hands brush against each other, making all the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up. As Credence goes right over to his bed, then past it, towards the cabinet stocked with socks, underwear, and casual clothes, the vision of Credence wearing his things in the future pops into his head, and now it can’t be removed. Graves finds his voice and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

Graves escapes to his bathroom and draws in a heavy breath. It won’t do to get ahead of himself, but god, he’s wanted Credence for so long, and he’s so lovely, patient, and exquisite.

He takes the fastest shower on record, even quicker than when he’s woken up late for work, not even bothering to touch his shampoo, simply soaping up all the important bits and rinsing off. He climbs out extra carefully because slipping now and breaking his leg or throwing out his back would be the least sexy thing on earth.

Graves dries off perfunctorily, ignoring the fact he’s half hard from the knowledge that Credence is out there, naked, on his bed. He emerges from his bathroom in a minuscule cloud of steam, as the shower was too quick to build up his usual fogbank… and finds Credence stretching out on his bed like a cat, long fingers wiggling and grabbing for the headboard, while he’s pointing his toes in the direction of the closed door.

Graves’ jaw almost hits the floor and his eyes go wide. He can’t breathe right, there isn’t enough air in the room. Credence may have promised not to start anything in the penetrative sense, but he’s definitely been touching himself. There’s a flush down the center of his chest, his nipples are in hard buds, while color kisses up his neck and over his cheeks. Graves blinks rapidly and tries hard not to sprint over to the bedside to ravish the boy.

He pointedly avoids ogling Credence’s cock, though he does take note of the fact he’s cut, and just how long it is, proportionate to the rest of his body.

Credence looks over at him, and his expression melts from mischievous to something intensely vulnerable.

“I know I showed you some of my scars, but there’s more,” Credence says.

Graves fumbles with the knot of his towel, tucked around his waist for modesty’s sake. He hadn’t been sure how quick they’d dive into everything. “I told you. You’re gorgeous. In fact, I’d kiss every single one of your scars, if I could.”

Credence’s eyes flutter and he relaxes onto the bed, hands fisting the sheets, while he takes in Graves’ bare chest, and it’s his turn to feel shy, exposed. He’s got more gray than brown in his body hair and there’s a few stretch marks no amount of hitting the gym will erase. Credence doesn’t seem to notice this, sitting up and letting his legs dangle off the side of the bed.

Graves walks right up to him, stepping between his parted knees, and Credence reaches out, up, both hands splaying over his stomach, making him gasp. He’s not been touched like this, reverently, exploring, not for years.

A few dozen one night stands were always quick, carnal meetings for one purpose and one alone - getting off.

Not intimacy.

Not like the way Credence looks at him.

“You kissing my scars? I’d like that,” Credence finally says, and Graves can breathe right again. “Can I?” he adds with a questioning lilt to his voice, as his lithe fingers play along the edge of the towel.

Graves nods. “Please.”

“Oh, I like that. You begging,” Credence drawls, even as he pulls away the knot and lets the terrycloth puddle to the ground around Graves’ feet.

His arousal is not subtle, his more than half hard cock nearly smacking against the palm of Credence’s closest hand. He trusts that the boy is just as eager, though, if the flush to his own cock is anything to go by.

“Mister Graves, you’re so thick.”

If this is Credence’s idea of dirty talk, well, fuck, Graves doesn’t actually mind.

He can feel warmth in his cheeks, and as he looks down, seeing those plush lips right level with his cock, it’s enough to make his hips buck forward. Credence’s fingers curl around the length of him, stroking over it, right along up to the base, gripping firmly, but not painfully so.

Credence’s thumb rubs along the underside of the head, sensitivity dulled a touch by the foreskin, a small blessing.

“If you’re gonna tease an old man, I’d suggest you let me off my feet,” Graves manages to choke out.

Credence looks guilty for a split second, before letting go and scooting back on the bed. “You’re right, of course. Lie down for me.”

Graves does so, a slight thrill shooting down to the base of his spine at the simple order, moving to obey, getting flat on his back and risking a look over at Credence to see if he can guess what the boy is thinking. Going off his hungry expression, he’s staring at Graves’ body like someone who’s been in the desert, starving for days.

“Gonna eye me up or come touch me some more?” he can’t help asking, a little impatient. His cock is leaking precum, drooling down the side of it and wetting the skin beside his navel as it curves up into his stomach.

Graves is fully hard now, the almost possessive hold Credence had on him more than enough to rile him up.

Credence’s hand is on him again, petting down from his face, caressing his cheek, stubbly from the day’s growth, to his neck and chest. He swipes a thumb over Graves’ left nipple and steals a soft groan from his throat.

Graves was not expecting that.

Credence leans across and kisses him with determination and an exploratory tongue, pressing between his lips, not asking, but demanding entry. Graves’ eyes fall shut as he feels Credence’s hand continuing down his body, slipping between his legs, skipping right past his cock to gently roll his balls between his fingers, and then under, rubbing his thumb right along his taint.

Graves starts a little at that, surprised, but Credence stops at once, breaking the kiss to worry his bottom lip between his white uneven teeth, eyes wide, searching Graves’ face as he hovers halfway over his chest.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice a whisper, nervous and scratchy.

Graves nods. “Absolutely. Just wondering what you’re planning to do.” He didn’t want to assume he’d be doing anything other than pleasing Credence, but considering how the boy’s taking the lead, it’s all up in the air.

Credence swallows, throat moving obscenely, and Graves has to remind himself to focus, to listen.

“I think I’d like… to fuck you, if that’s alright? Maybe warm up a little, like this. Do you mind me… telling you what to do?”

Graves smiles. “I like it. It’s very attractive. Your self-assurance. As much as I’d like to pin you down and make you come a few times, I also want you to be comfortable.”

Credence shivers against him and Graves feels his cock throbbing. Credence likes the idea of it, even if he may not be ready to give himself over to it. “Okay. Yeah, I would prefer if you let me lead.” Credence licks his lips again, briefly biting on the bottom one before freeing it from his teeth, leaning in for another kiss.

Graves hears a whisper against his mouth after a few moments of kissing. It sounds an awful lot like “Get on your stomach”, so when Credence pulls away and stretches to the bedside table - for lube presumably - Graves is quick to roll over, folding his arms under his head and ensuring he tucks a pillow under his hips.

It’s been… way longer than he can remember since he’s done this or had it done to him, but god, there’s a good chance he’ll come from it alone if Credence isn’t careful. The slap takes him by surprise and Graves’ cock twitches against the soft cotton of the pillowcase. He swallows. “What was that for?”

Credence is right behind him. He can feel the heat of the boy’s skin against the back of his thighs, as well as where the hand still hovers over his no doubt flaming pink ass cheek.

“You keep wiggling. I want you to hold still, and you better not come while I’m fingering you.” Credence’s voice shakes only a little, but the words are liquid heat, fanning the flames of Graves’ arousal.

“Yes, sir.” He says it a little mockingly because he’s not sure how Credence would like to be addressed in this situation. Another slap, and then breath is hot on his neck, Credence’s lips moving against his nape.

“Are you back talking me, Mister Graves?”

Graves can’t help wincing at that, even as the third spank lands, barely hurting him. “That’s a little formal, sir, considering I’m the one on the receiving end of your wrath.”

Credence hums and then massages both hands over Graves’ ass, presumably having set the lube and a condom somewhere off to the side of them. “Well if you don’t like it, what should I call you? Daddy?”

Now, that’s unfair. Graves can’t come yet, but he can grind against the pillow while shoving himself back into Credence’s broad hands. “Fuck… yeah. That’ll work for me.”

There’s another couple slaps, each one milder than the last, and then Graves feels two cool fingertips rubbing closer and closer to his cleft before Credence’s thumb swipes over his hole. He knows it flutters at the touch, and his entire body shudders when he hears the snapping of the lube cap being flicked open.

“You’ve been so good for me, Daddy. I changed my mind. If you come when I touch your prostate, I won’t be angry.” Credence assures him, his voice strained, breathless, and if Graves twists around, risking his back, he can spot the boy’s hand moving over himself, long lazy strokes on his cock. He’s frustrated that he can’t touch Credence, but he understands. Credence needs the control this arrangement offers. Graves wants it too, even if it’s hard to rationalize the how and why.

The first press of a slick finger reminds Graves to exhale deeply and inhale slow, steady, evenly. Credence looms over him and distracts with soft kisses along his naked shoulders, little nibbles over his neck, up to his ear.

“You’re so sexy like this. Are you gonna come for me, Daddy?” Graves swallows down a groan and feels Credence’s first knuckle breach the tight outer ring of muscle, as his cock aches and blurts out further smearings of precum against his belly. There’s a very good chance he will come, but right now all Credence is doing is adding to the tease of it all, the delicious denial prolonged by no real touches to his cock.

Graves turns his head, cheek pressing the back of his forearm, and he catches a glimpse of Credence’s face, flush with exhilaration, eyes glassy with pleasure. He’s getting off from this, too. Graves is grateful for that knowledge -  otherwise, he’d feel too much like a pillow princess, even if he did volunteer for it.

Credence’s finger slips in deeper and the pad of it skips right over Graves’ prostate. His hips jolt, pushing back and rocking forward seconds later, giving his cock some much-needed friction. Credence sighs against him, and Graves can swear he feels the long hard line of the boy’s cock at the back of his thigh. It twitches minutely a second later, as Credence withdraws his first finger to ease the tip of a second into his hole.

“God, you’re so big, you’re going to ruin me, sir.” Graves gasps out.

Credence whimpers a little, right beside his ear. “Fuck, Percy, don’t say that.”

He smiles, secretly delighted to have forced the boy to break character, and his eyes cross when both of Credence’s fingers curl into him, purposefully massaging right over his prostate. At this point, it’s almost impossible to hold himself back, to keep from coming. Credence didn’t say he couldn’t touch himself to help a little, because frankly, his days of coming without anything on his dick are long past.

Graves slips a hand down, between the pillow and his stomach, grasping his cock in a firm hold, tugging slowly while Credence continues to mercilessly fuck him on two fingers, buried deep.

Barely a minute later Graves shudders and his vision goes white as he comes; his orgasm is drawn out, endless waves of bliss rippling through him, thanks to Credence noticing and returning his fingertips back onto his prostate.

“Yes, yes, that’s it, Daddy.” His voice is higher pitched, almost whiny, and Graves is dimly aware of a third finger sliding into his hole, wet with fresh lube, as Credence rocks against him, his free hand reaching up, fingers thrusting into his hair. He doesn’t pull or tug, he just grips, so that when Graves turns his head to the side, Credence can duck down and suckle a kiss onto his neck, then bite gently over his shoulder.

“God, that was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” Credence groans.

Graves’ hand is slick with his own come and his cock is still hard, nearing oversensitivity, so he lets go of himself, wiping his fingers on the section of sheeting furthest away from them, almost hanging off the bed. Three fingers deep, and Graves is all but limp on the mattress under Credence’s hand, sweat cooling on the length of his spine. But it’s not over yet.

His second wind is approaching, as he feels yet another finger easing in, aided by his climax helping him relax. Credence backs away, letting go of him long enough to tear open the condom and slip it on, adding lube, at least, Graves hopes, because he’s not sure those are pre-lubricated. It’s ironic - he’s owned those extra large condoms for over three and a half months, mainly out of wishful thinking, not vanity. He’s not so deluded as to think he needs them. As it turns out, he was right to be prepared.

Credence’s cock is hot, thick, and teasingly being ground right against his cleft.

“Do it. Please.” His voice breaks a little and he hears Credence’s sharp inhale.

“Alright. Squeeze my hand if it’s too much, or just tell me.” A hand finds his, a bit tacky with drying lube, but Graves laces their fingers together regardless, craving this, a tiny piece of intimacy in the midst of Credence running the show. Credence’s other hand is occupied with guiding his cock in, a slow gentle affair that is expedited with a deep exhale, and Credence lets out a strangled gasp as he slides in halfway.

It takes another few seconds for Credence to bottom out inside Graves, and that’s when he remembers how much he likes this. He’s the one being pinned to the mattress, and god, it’s so liberating.

Credence asks him if he’s okay to move and Graves is fairly certain he sobs out a yes.

Every down stroke and thrust in makes Credence’s cockhead brush past Graves’ prostate, giving him just the right amount of stimulation to be frustrating, but not too much or enough to make him come again. Credence moves and fucks him like he’s already close, and for all Graves knows, he is.

He’s been very quiet about his own pleasure, out of Graves’ line of sight for the most part. Credence lets out a soft noise, like a little moan, and then stills his hips, both hands digging into the sides of Graves’ waist.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it just feels… so good. I need to slow down or it’ll be over too quickly.”

Graves smiles a little, dizzy at the thought that he’s succeeding, pleasing Credence like this.

It’s enough to bring tears of something a lot like pure joy to his eyes, the sting, and burn of which he embraces, feeling the hot wetness drip down his cheeks. God, he’s too far gone for Credence and it’s got to be painfully obvious.

Once Credence starts to move again, Graves’ jaw goes slack and his eyes fall shut.

He’s rocked into the bed, over and over, as the movements of Credence’s thrusts are driving into him. Credence is being careful, and not too rough, but he’s also huge. At this point, Graves is certain he won’t be able to sit for long tomorrow, not without a cushion at least. Pillow princess, indeed.

After a burst of several quicker thrusts, Credence slows down again. His legs are trembling and his breathing is growing ragged. “Oh, god, oh… Percy… ”

Credence’s fingernails bite into his hips, and his cheek is resting at Graves’ left shoulder as he shivers through his orgasm, cock pulsing and emptying his release into the condom. Credence collapses over him, briefly pushing him against the bed, reminding Graves of the slight advantage in height the boy has on him, and he relishes it. The weight, being grounded by so much skin to skin contact.

Eventually, Credence finds his strength and pulls out a few seconds later, just as Graves’ knees are starting to feel stiff.

He rolls onto his back and stretches his legs out, reaching up to wipe his tears away hastily, as he watches Credence staggering over to the bathroom door, tossing away the used condom. He returns to Graves’ beside and looks down at him, hands wringing in front of his chest. “So, uh, how was I?”

“Was that your first time domming someone?”

Credence nods, looking adorably shy, despite what they’ve just done.

“Come here.” Graves opens his arms and beckons, and Credence scrambles to get back in the bed, snuggling right into Graves’ chest.

Graves is quite sure the aftercare aspect isn’t supposed to happen like this, but Credence needs some comfort and assurance. The sun is still up outside, filtering through the curtains with an orange and pink haze, making Graves remember how ordinary and domestic this all is. “Next time, I’d really like to do more for you,” he says.

Credence hums. He looks up at Graves, frowning. “What do you mean? You were wonderful.”

Graves smiles and gently pets a hand over the boy’s sweat-damp hair, ruffling his bangs and thumbing over his bare cheek.

Credence’s eyes drop to his lips and Graves takes the hint, surging up to kiss him, briefly, but with passion. “I want to serve you, again, with an active role.”

Credence settles back over his chest and Graves feels their legs entangling, while the boy’s hand flattens over his arm, squeezing his bicep in a fond manner. “Alright. We can try it.”

It’s not a resounding enthusiastic yes, but Graves will take it because it’s progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you'd like to share your opinion, please consider leaving a comment and/or kudos!
> 
> Check out writingramblr's blog [@soz](https://soz.tumblr.com/)


	7. June (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After last week's chapter by the lovely and uber-talented soz, this week it's back to a chapter written by me - some of you have been asking what's up with Henry Shaw and as promised, he'll make an appearance in today's update!
> 
> As always, so much thanks to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading!
> 
> **chapter warning: verbal assault, referenced underage, referenced adultery, alcoholism**

Credence walks out of the diner after his shift in the evening - his car broke down yesterday. His best friend said she’d take a look at it, but she’ll need to find the time. As it is, Percy offered to drive him to and pick him up from work until they get the car running again.

Credence would be more grateful for that offer if it didn’t involve waiting for Percy to arrive in the dark parking lot. He shouldn’t feel frightened. He’s been here countless times and knows the area like the back of his hand, but something… something doesn’t quite feel right.

He paces back and forth, texting Percy that he’s already waiting.

If only he could wait inside the diner. He sends a longing look to the front door, but it’s impossible - Queenie locked up, and Credence doesn’t have a key.

After what feels like an eternity, but is probably closer to five minutes, a car pulls into the parking lot. At first, Credence can only see the blinding headlights, but it _has_ to be Percy. Who else would it be? Credence quickly walks up to the car.

As soon as he gets closer, he realizes that something is terribly wrong.

This is not Percy’s car.

It’s a silver Mercedes and Credence wouldn’t be exaggerating if he said that he has intimate knowledge of both the car and its owner.

The car comes to a halt. Credence’s stomach is already in knots before the driver even has a chance to get out.

“Thank _God_ , I thought I’d missed you,” Henry says as he walks towards Credence.

His nerves scream at him to leave, but he can’t bring his muscles to make a move. He stays rooted to the spot and watches Henry approach with a leisurely pace, a confident smile on his face, as though they had never broken up. “What are you doing here?” Credence asks.

“I really needed to talk to you, but you weren’t replying to my text messages and you didn’t return my calls,” Henry says, now less than an arm’s length away from Credence. “So I thought I’d try my luck and see if I couldn’t find you here. I know that your car broke down and I figured you might be in need of a lift.”

“I… ” Credence croaks. His head is reeling. “What do you want to talk about?”

Henry shakes his head. “Isn’t it obvious?” he says, reaching out to touch Credence’s cheek.

The touch of Henry’s hand makes him shudder and he wants to twist away, but that might provoke him. “You’re trying to win me back?” Credence asks, trying to stay calm.

“God knows I tried to stay away from you, I tried to forget you and move on, but you know that… I need you too much. There’s something about you that I just can’t get enough of. Remember when we first met? I knew you were special right away and that I’d have to make you mine. Don’t you see that I _needed_ you, even back then?”

 _Of course_ Credence remembers the day he first met Henry, how could he forget? He’d been a few weeks shy of his seventeenth birthday when the Shaws took him in. At the time, he hadn’t known that he would stay with them until he aged out of the foster system. Other foster children came and went, but Credence stayed for longer than any of the others, and he got accustomed to the way Henry’s dark-brown eyes always seemed to follow his every move when they were in the same room together.

At first, Credence had thought that Henry simply didn’t trust him and wanted to make sure Credence didn’t steal anything from them. However, it had taken only a couple of weeks to find out the reason for Henry’s glances was not suspicion, but desire.

Despite the inherent wrongness of their affair, Credence had enjoyed it, had been delighted by every furtive touch and every stolen kiss. The fact that what they were doing was forbidden just made it all the more thrilling. He’d even felt empowered - after years and years of his mother telling him that he was a freak unworthy of being loved, here was this gorgeous man and he wanted _Credence_.

But that had been years ago, and if Credence was being honest with himself, he hadn’t felt that spark, that particular thrill with Henry in a long time. There had been too many lies and broken promises, and ultimately too many fights to feel differently.

“If you need me as much as you say, why didn’t you try to talk to me before? Why wait so long?” Credence asks.

“Didn’t you listen? I said you weren’t returning my calls and you didn’t text me back. What was I supposed to do? Come to your new place to talk to you, risking that _he’s_ around?”

He caresses Credence’s cheek again, trying to sweep his thumb over Credence’s lip. It becomes too much, so Credence shakes his hand off. “I don’t want you to touch me like that,” he says, hating how his voice doesn’t come out nearly as firm and commanding as he hoped it would.

“Are you in a mood?” Henry says, smirking. “You know I like them feisty. Makes it more of a challenge for me.”

“Don’t change the topic.”

“You need to give me another chance,” Henry says. “You know that.”

“I don’t think I want to get back together with you,” Credence says, taking two steps back so Henry is no longer invading his personal space. “You hit me. It wasn’t the first time and if I give you another chance, it won’t be the last one. Something… something always happens, no matter how hard I try and… ”

“You’re so dramatic,” Henry cuts in. “You’re always blowing things out of proportion. I barely even touched you.” He sneers. “Are you trying to play the victim so that crazy ex-cop is going to take pity on you?”

“Percival isn’t crazy,” Credence says, watching Henry carefully. There’s something building up, he can sense it, in the way his jaw looks just a little more tense than usual, in the way he’s clenching his left hand into a fist. Still, if he’s learned anything during the last few years, it’s that as long as Henry is able to lecture him, he won’t get violent. “What makes you think that he is?”

“Please, he’s obviously deranged, anyone with half a brain can see that,” Henry says, having closed the distance between them again.

Credence can smell tobacco on Henry’s breath. “You started smoking again. I thought you’d quit for good at forty?” he asks.

Henry laughs and doesn’t even try to look guilty. “Yeah. Carol hates it. She says I should set a better example for the kids, but I’ve just been going crazy without you.”

“Please, don’t… ” Credence begins.

“You have no idea how bad it gets,” Henry says. “You didn’t text me, you didn’t return my calls and then I hear that you’re living with that _newcomer_ , that… Did you think about it for even just one second, or did you just jump into bed with him right away? Do you know he lost his job because he’s an aggressive alcoholic? Did he tell you that?”

“No, I didn’t… what does it even matter if I’m fucking him? We’re done,” he says, trying to get away.

Henry grabs him by the wrist, but Credence yanks his arm out of his grip.

“We’re not done,” Henry hisses. “You don’t have the fucking right to treat me this way.” He spits on the ground. “He won’t get away with it, I promise. He should have known better than to touch anything that belongs to me.” Once again, he grabs Credence’s arm, pulling him towards his car. “I’m taking you home, you little--”

Another pair of headlights is fast approaching, illuminating both Credence and Henry.

The car comes to a screeching halt and Credence could cry from relief when the car door is thrown open and Percy joins them. Momentarily distracted, Henry’s grip on Credence’s arm loosens and he can tear himself away, running over to where Percy is standing.

Henry insults them, calling Percy a bastard and Credence a slut, but he makes no move to physically attack them, for which Credence is grateful. Apparently, Henry has enough sense of self-preservation left to not do anything while he’s outnumbered.

“What’s going on here?” Percy asks, ostensibly calm and authoritative. For the first time, Credence can actually imagine him as a police officer.

“What does it look like to you?” Henry snarls. “I’m trying to take back what’s mine, that’s all.”

“You know, Mr. Shaw, I think Credence has made it sufficiently clear who he’d like to go home with,” Percy replies, locking eyes with Henry. “You should accept that.”

Henry spits on the floor again. “You won’t get away with this, I swear to God! You have no idea what I’m capable of, you have no fucking idea what I can do!” He flips them off. “Oh, and Credence? Don’t forget that it was me who helped you get custody of your sisters in the first place. I bet your mother would just love to get her daughters back.”

Credence shivers, terror creeping deep into his bones. “You… you can’t… ” The concern he feels for his sisters momentarily overpowers his fear of Henry. “Don’t bring my sisters into this!” he yells. “You have no right to do that! This is an issue between you and me! You can’t just… I’ll… I’ll talk to Langdon and let everyone know what you did to me!”

Henry laughs hysterically. “Do you think that frightens me? You talking to Langdon? He’s just bitter that he never lived up to father’s expectations. Do you think anyone around here believes the shit he talks about on his podcast? You know what you’re going to look like? Like a whiny bitch who’s upset because I finally got tired of your bullshit and dumped you.”

Credence feels as though he’s been slapped in the face. “Shut up! That’s so much… you didn’t dump me, I left _you_. Ten minutes ago you were trying to get back together with me, you’re… stop lying to my face!”

“You’re right,” Henry snorts. “What was I thinking? I must have been crazy. I’m glad to be rid of you.” After sending one last dirty look in Credence’s and Percy’s direction, Henry finally gets into the car and speeds off, driving too recklessly and too fast, the way he always does when he’s angry.

Credence keeps looking after the car until its tail lights disappear in the dark. “Percy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was going to show up.” Credence falters, not knowing what to say next. He gets the silly impulse to beg Percy to believe his side of the story, not Henry’s vile words, always twisting the truth into something befitting his needs.

It gets hard to breathe, when he can suddenly imagine it all too clearly: Percy starting to get tired of him, compliments starting to give way to snide remarks and underhanded accusations, and sex slowly turning from something he looks forward to and enjoys into something more of a chore, something he does first and foremost to placate Percy, because refusing him means picking a fight.

He can see his budding relationship with Percy going through all the stages that his affair with Henry had done, from exciting to mundane and eventually stifling, sometimes even frightening him.

Percy takes his hand and Credence flinches, almost having forgotten that Percy is standing right beside him.

Percy apologizes, but Credence shakes his head, says it’s nothing and grabs Percy’s hand, holding on to it for dear life. “I want to go home,” he says. “And then we need to talk,” he adds after a second. “Please.”

“Of course,” Percy says, giving Credence’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I have the feeling that there’s a lot to unpack, here. Let’s get home, come on.”

Percy starts walking towards the car, but Credence holds him back and pulls him into a hug that has to be crushing the air from his lungs, but right now? Nothing feels close enough and so he holds on to Percy, feeling the solid warmth of his body and the scratch of stubble against his cheek, smelling Percy’s aftershave and hearing the low rumble of his voice as he mumbles that he’s got Credence, that he’s right here, that things are going to be fine, that’s a promise.

Credence has his doubts. There are too many potential ways that this could go wrong, is _bound_ to go wrong…  Still, just for a few minutes, he can push those thoughts aside and lets himself believe Percy’s promise, imagining a future for them.

Credence spends the short drive home trying to control his breathing to keep himself from hyperventilating. Percy asks him a question, but Credence holds up a hand and says they’ll talk about it once they’re home. Once they’re safe, his mind fills in. Once they’re all safe - him, Percy, Chas, and Mo.

The hair on the back of his neck stands up when he remembers that Henry told him that he was going to return his sisters to their mother’s custody.

Credence’s eyes start to burn with unshed tears and he rubs at his eyes almost violently. No, he vows to himself, he’s not going to let that happen. He’s fought to get custody of his sisters before and now he’ll fight to keep it - he’s not going to let Henry take the girls away from him, no, Credence is not going to give him that kind of power.

He’ll need a lawyer and a damn good one at that. He’ll… and just like that, he feels dismayed again, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. He slumps in the car seat. Henry financed the lawsuit that got Credence custody of his sisters in the first place. Over the years, Credence has learned many life lessons from Henry, one of them being that lawyers that cost an arm and a leg are always able to get you off the hook. It’s just a question of having enough money and influence.

That might all be very well for Henry, but since Credence has neither influence nor money, it makes him feel desperate like he’s going to lose his sisters for sure. Automatically, his mind conjures up frightening scenarios, him having to say goodbye to Chastity and Modesty, having to watch as they’re returned into Ma’s abusive hands.

Stop.

He needs to stop.

It hasn’t yet come to this, maybe Henry was just trying to scare him. What’s that saying, his bark is worse than his bite? Credence would love to believe it, but, tonguing the artificial crown he got just a few days ago to cover his chipped tooth, he knows better.

Before Credence knows it, they’re already home and he puts on a brave face in front of the girls, trying to hide how shaken the encounter with his ex has left him. He’s gotten good at this over the years, Henry had frequently provided opportunities for practice over the years. He wipes his eyes and puts on a smile, even though he doesn’t feel like smiling, he kisses his sisters goodnight and wishes them sweet dreams. The ease with which those skills come back after a few months of not using them is enough to make something gnaw at Credence’s stomach. Just like riding a bike, his mind supplies. Once you’ve learned how to do it, you’ll never forget it again.

After getting his sisters settled in for the night, Credence and Percy sit down at the kitchen table, at Credence’s request. He doesn’t want his sisters to hear anything of what they’re going to discuss, not until he’s figured out how to talk to them in a way that doesn’t scare them - no, he corrects himself. In a way that doesn’t show them how scared and helpless _he_ is.

“Do you need anything?” Percy asks.

“Before you arrived, Henry said things about… about you. How and why you lost your job, specifically.”

Percy groans, releasing Credence’s hands to massage his temples.

“What did he say?” he asks.

“Well, he… actually, I don’t want to rehash what Henry said,” Credence says quietly. “I’m pretty sure that he’s telling more lies than anything else and I want to hear your story first. You said I could ask you if I really wanted to know.”

“That’s not exactly what I… alright,” Percy says. “Okay. But I’ll need a… dammit.”

“I’m sorry,” Credence says, instinctively, not even sure what he’s apologizing for. He shrinks back a little. “Percy? What’s wrong?” he asks.

Percy meets his gaze and his expression softens. “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at myself because I caught myself thinking that I need… that I want a drink for this conversation.”

Credence blinks. “I mean, you could have a drink,” he points out. “Why don’t you… ?”

Percy’s face twists into a grimace of shame and discomfort. “Drinking too much is what partly caused me to lose my job in the first place. I don’t know if I’d be able to control myself if I drank. One drink would turn into two and eventually into too many to count and… I don’t like the person I become when I get drunk.”

“Oh,” Credence says. So Henry had been partially right when he’d labeled Percy as an alcoholic. “That’s… that’s okay,” he says. “If you don’t want to talk about the case, then I’ll just… I’d accept that.”

Percy shakes his head. “No, you asked and I think you have a right to know. Do you remember the Tammy Olsen murder case?”

While he speaks about the case, Percy periodically wipes his eyes and hides his face in his hands. At one point, his voice gets so rough that Credence stands up and gets a glass of water for him.

Percy downs it in one go and continues telling Credence about his obsession, his descent into half-madness due to his perceived guilt. “I couldn’t do my job anymore and, eventually, they decided that enough was enough and suspended me,” Percy says, absentmindedly toying with the empty glass in his hands. “I couldn’t believe it at first. Getting suspended for unprofessional behavior, that was always one of those things that happened to other people, but not to me.”

“But you managed to pull your life back together, didn’t you?” Credence says and nudges his foot against Percy’s. “You’re doing… you look like you’re doing a lot better now than when we first met.”

Percy smiles weakly. “I’ve found a reason to do better, didn’t I?”

Credence leans over the table and kisses Percy. “Such a romantic,” he whispers.

“I… actually, I didn’t mean that we’re dating, or not only that. You and your sisters are living with me and I know that I’m not in any way entitled to… you’re the one in charge of their upbringing, obviously, but since you’re all living with me, I still have the responsibility to provide a safe environment for your sisters and be there for you if you need my help with anything concerning them.”

Credence’s eyes widen. “Oh,” he says because everything is starting to make sense now. “A safe environment,” he echoes Percy’s words. “You’re scared the killer is still out there.”

Percy shakes his head. “I _know_ the killer is still out there. But yes, I’m scared that he might spot Modesty and pick her as his next victim. She… she looks remarkably similar to Tammy.”

“But that won’t happen, right?” Credence says quickly before the lump in his throat can become large enough to block his voice from coming out. “That’s… that can’t happen, can it?”

“I hope it won’t, but I can’t guarantee anything. The best thing we could do is to ask both Modesty and Chastity to tell us if they’re being approached by any men they don’t know… the Butcher probably groomed them for a few days or weeks and gained his victims’ trust before he raped and killed them.”

They continue to develop a plan of action, and Credence feels somewhat assured until he remembers Henry’s threats of taking Chas and Mo away from him. Why is he worrying about a faceless monster, when the much more tangible threat is coming from someone he knows, someone he once trusted…

“Can I ask you something?”

Credence blinks, Percy’s voice effectively cutting through the haze of fear and uncertainty that’s started to cloud his mind to rational thought.

“One thing I don’t understand is: Why did you tell Henry that you were going to speak with… who was it?”

Credence shifts in his chair and fights the instinct to bite his nails. “Langdon. I was saying I would talk to Langdon if he kept on harassing me like he did. He’s… do you remember when we went to the flea market and we couldn’t find Mo? One of the men she was talking to was Langdon. He’s Henry’s younger half-brother.”

“And the other man was… ?”

“His partner, Ewan Abernathy. I… you see, Langdon had a falling out with his family and he runs a podcast about all the bad stuff his family allegedly was involved in. It’s gotten quite popular, actually, and… how am I going to explain this? Langdon and I were friends for a while, back when he was still talking to his family. Ever since he started his podcast project, he’s been trying to get me to give him an interview, you know, since I’ve lived with his brother and… I don’t know if he knows that Henry started sleeping with me back when I was still underage… of course, Henry hates Langdon’s podcast, and he basically told me that I mustn’t have any contact with Langdon, or else, but he can’t tell me what to do anymore. Do you think… what do you think?”

Percy’s expression is unreadable for a moment. He exhales, slowly. “You know, I think it might just be a good idea if you talked to Langdon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to share your opinion, please consider leaving a comment and/or kudos - I would love to know what you thought of this chapter!


	8. June (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left kudos or commented on the previous chapter <3
> 
> [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) once again agreed to beta-read this chapter - thank you so much!
> 
> The character of Soo-hyun is Maledictus girl by the way - I really wanted to include her, because she and Credence obviously share a close bond in the upcoming movie. However, since her character's name has not yet been revealed (and I don't like the theory that she's Nagini), I chose to use Claudia Kim's Korean first name instead, just like I did in my gradence AU based on the Bond movies.
> 
> **chapter warning: referenced verbal assault, anxiety, animal cruelty**

“Someone messed with your car,” Soo-hyun says, wiping her hands on a rag. “They siphoned almost all the gas and poured bleach in the gas tank instead. It’s… I’m sorry, but your car… it’s scrap.

Despite the summer heat, Credence shivers. A lump is forming in his throat. “Really?”

“Like I said, I’m sorry. I’d hug you if I could but--” She holds up her hands, blackened and greasy with motor oil. “Don’t wanna ruin your clothes. I’ll wash up.”

“Yeah,” Credence mumbles, giving her directions to the bathroom. He bites his lip until he tastes blood in his mouth. His car, which used to be such a familiar item, now appears to be giving him a mocking look. Credence is not sure if he ever wants to look at it again, knowing it has been tampered with.

The car broke down in the morning. His stomach makes a funny lurch, and he regrets the two hotdogs he had for lunch. It means somebody (and Credence has only too clear of an idea who that someone might have been) snuck around the house in the middle of the night to mess with his car. ‘I heard your car broke down,’ Henry had said. The mocking undertone in his voice makes a lot more sense now.

The queasy feeling in his stomach doesn’t disappear as he walks into the house, finding Soo-hyun bent over the bathroom sink, furiously scrubbing away at her hands.

Credence wishes Percy were here, wishes he’d hurry up. He scheduled a talk with Langdon today. Both he and Percy had agreed that it would be best if the girls weren’t present for a conversation of that kind, who knows what they might overhear. Chastity is going to spend the afternoon at a friend’s place, while Modesty is attending an event hosted by the local library, ‘Bookworm Sleepover’ Leta had called it when she’d dropped off flyers at the diner a week ago.

Soo-hyun dries her hands on a towel, giving Credence a critical look. “Hey, it’s okay. At least it’s just the car, right?”

“I don’t care about the car,” Credence says. “Henry… or someone else snuck around the house while we were all asleep and we didn’t notice anything. Hell, what if they had broken in and hurt--”

“Come here.” Soo-hyun pulls him into a hug. “At least now you know and can figure out how to protect yourself, right?”

Credence releases her, huffing nervously. “Yeah, right. That’s the sort of conversation Percy is going to love. ‘Hey, my psychotic ex is giving me trouble again, sorry about that.’”

“From what you’ve told me about him, I’m sure he’ll understand,” she says. “Do you want me to stick around for the talk with Shaw the Younger? Moral support, and all that?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I wouldn’t want to drag you into this whole thing. It’s between me and Henry. I don’t want you to become a target as well.”

She tilts her head, asking a silent question. When Credence doesn’t add anything to change his opinion, she nods. “That’s okay. I’ll still stick around until Percy comes home, though. I want to finally meet him. Are you sure he’s not going to have any problems with us being friends?”

“He doesn’t come across as being the jealous and suspicious type, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Soo-hyun snorts. “It’s not me I’m worried about. Even if he’s all nice to me, I don’t want him to accuse you of anything the second I’m gone.”

“He wouldn’t,” Credence blurts. “If I thought he’d give me shit for being friends with you, I wouldn’t be dating him.”

“Well, you didn’t have the greatest taste in men before,” she says, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “You know it’s true.”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

She unties her hair, runs a brush through it, and gathers it back into a high ponytail.

“Want me to braid your hair for you?” Credence asks, offering armistice that way.

“Sure,” she says.

Credence grabs a hair tie and a brush. They settle down on the sofa in the living room, Credence sitting cross-legged behind her, braiding her hair into a fishtail braid. He does this for Modesty and used to do it for Chastity as well when she was younger. It’s calming, and he knows Soo-hyun appreciates having more elaborate hairstyles, even if she doesn’t want to put in the energy to style her hair herself.

He’s putting the finishing touches on the braid when Percy returns.

“Sorry, I know I’m late, but Leta started chatting with me and we lost track of time,” he says, holding up a plastic box. “But a few of the mothers made too many snacks, so I brought some cake.”

While Percy is putting the box in the fridge, Soo-hyun turns around to face Credence, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “He’s not bad-looking,” she drawls.

He rolls his eyes. “You knew that before, I sent you pictures.”

“It’s still different seeing someone in person.”

Percy rejoins them, a glass of water in hand. He gives Credence a kiss and shakes Soo-hyun’s hand in greeting.

“So you’re the friend of Credence’s Henry didn’t like,” he says, more to himself than to Soo-hyun, but it’s still enough to make Credence shake his head and blush furiously.

“You don’t waste time with niceties, do you?” she chortles. “But you’re right. To be honest, it was such a relief when Cre told me that you’re nothing like his ex… well, I guess in terms of looks, you do resemble Henry quite a bit, but I’m talking about character. I would have had a meltdown if he’d gone for another jealous bastard.” She turns around and ruffles Credence’s hair. “You deserve so much better than that. Anyway, I’m glad you’re now going for the, uh,” she hesitates, looking Percy up and down with narrowed eyes. “The cuddly dad type?”

Percy nearly chokes on his water, unsuccessfully trying to hide his surprise as a cough.

“Sorry,” Credence mouths behind Soo-hyun’s back. He should have prepared Percy for the meeting, told him that his friend had a habit of being very direct. Beating around the bush? Not with her. Credence liked that about her since it made talking to her easy for him. He’d spent too much of his life trying to decipher double meanings and hidden agendas, first while living with Ma, then during his train wreck of a relationship with Henry. But Credence liking that style of communication doesn’t mean Percy likes it, too. Maybe he thought Soo-hyun was being rude?

He breathes easier when Percy shows no signs of aggression. “My former colleagues would never believe me if I told them that someone described me as ‘cuddly’,” he says drily.

She shrugs. “You do look like the type who likes to snuggle,” she says and gives them both a broad grin. “Anyway, I won’t be bothering you any longer. Look, I’ll call a few friends, ask them if they know anyone who’s selling affordable cars. It’ll be cheaper to get a new car than to fix this one.”

“Great,” Credence says, trying not to think of how he was only able to afford his previous car with Henry’s financial aid. “Thank you.”

She sees Credence off with a hug and waves to Percy. “Good luck, you know, for the talk with Langdon later on.”

Credence lets out an unnerved laugh. In the middle of all the concern regarding his sabotaged car, he’d almost forgotten about it. “I’ll need it, thank you.”

Once she’s gone, Credence fidgets, wringing his hands. “Please tell me you’re not angry.” Percy was being nice while they’d had company, but that doesn’t mean he won’t blow up at Credence now that they’re alone. It’s happened before; being yelled at for some mistake he made in a different setting wouldn’t be anything new… No, that was the rule with Henry, Credence tells himself. He’s no longer with him. Different partner, different rules.

“Why do you think I’d be angry?

Credence shrugs, not knowing what to say. Anger is the default reaction he’s used to if anything doesn’t go according to plan. More specifically, anger is the reaction he’s learned to expect for being caught spending time with Soo-hyun. He’d befriended her in his senior year of high school. At first, Henry had accepted the friendship, but once he’d realized that the two of them continued to be good friends after graduation and that Soo-hyun kept challenging Credence’s opinion of his arrangement with Henry, things had gone south.

Different partner, different rules, Credence repeats to himself. “I guess I’m used to dealing with anger when she was around,” he hedges.

Percy blinks. “I see,” he says. “She doesn’t come across like someone who lets herself be intimidated easily. I can imagine some people not being particularly accepting of such an attitude.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Credence mumbles.

Percy sits down next to him, slinging one arm around Credence’s shoulders to pull him against his side. “Hey,” he says, pressing a kiss to Credence’s temple. “She’s your friend and she’s important to you. I’d be a huge jerk if I didn’t let you spend time with her, or with anyone you want to spend time with, for that matter. We’re dating, but that doesn’t give me the right to control who you have contact with.”

Credence exhales, relieved, and leans against Percy, interlacing their fingers. It’s soothing, feeling the steady reassurance of a solid body against his. “Thanks,” he says.

“You don’t need to thank me. That’s basic human decency.”

His lips twitch into a sad smile. No, it’s not. Or if it is, then no one ever bothered to tell that to the people who shaped Credence’s life up to this point. First Ma, with her rigid, nonsensical rules, doling out punishments whenever she thought Credence deserved it and later Henry, who was in a way so similar to Ma - quick to anger, and no matter how much Credence tried, he could never follow the rules for long enough.

Something always set them off. Credence always made some mistake.

He squeezes Percy’s hand, grateful for Percy’s attitude towards their friendship or whatever it is that they have. It’s good, Credence can’t deny it, and he’s looking forward to watching their feelings for each other evolve, but sometimes, he can’t help wishing he’d met Percy sooner.

“Are you okay?” Percy asks.

Credence nods, pulling himself out of his thoughts again. “Yeah,” he says. “Honestly, thanks.” He leans in and kisses Percy, desperate to connect with him in a meaningful way.

Percy smiles against Credence’s lips, pulling back slightly. “Are you sure you wanna start something now? Langdon and his partner are going to arrive any second and I wouldn’t want them catching us in any compromising position.”

Credence screws up his nose. “‘Compromising position’?” he echoes, fighting against the grin that’s threatening to spread over his face. “You mean they could catch us while I’m spanking you?”

Percy leans closer, lightly nipping the skin of Credence’s neck. “Much as I love the idea, let’s save it for later.”

As it turns out, they would have had more than enough time for a quickie, since Langdon is over an hour late. He apologizes, saying their dog had suddenly gotten very sick and Ewan had had to drive it to the vet. “I also got this,” he says, once they sit down around the kitchen table and proceeds to play them a recording of a call in which a furious Henry Shaw Jr. yells at Langdon and makes threats concerning Langdon’s personal safety.

Credence shifts uncomfortably. “He left me similar messages,” he says. “That’s--”

“Disconcerting,” Percy says.

“It’s become a regular thing,” Langdon says. “I didn’t know he was targeting you as well, but after you broke up with him, I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

“And you’re still doing your podcast?” Percy asks him. “Even though you get reactions like that from him? Wouldn’t it be easier for you if you quit?”

Langdon shakes his head, eyes blazing. “I’m in too deep,” he says. “I’ve started with the goal to expose all the bad stuff my family did in the past and I can’t stop now. It’s… I don’t know if you’ve listened to some of the episodes I did in the past, but I tend to find a common theme in these stories about my family. The corruption, the cronyism… it has never been a secret. The community has always known about it, but people were too afraid to speak up and so they rather looked the other way. And I don’t think that I can let that continue. I did a number of episodes on my great-grandfather’s news empire. Back in the day, it was difficult to get an opinion on local affairs that wasn’t controlled by the Shaw family and made us look like heroes of the community for a long time. Now, with the internet, that’s all changed and I’m going to take full advantage of that.”

“Can I ask you something?” Percy says. “If this is a regular thing, why haven’t you done an episode on Henry before? I know that you did a series of episodes about what your father did as Senator, but there has been very little on your brother until now.”

“It’s harder to get people to speak about Henry on tape than it is to motivate people to speak about… well, about stuff that’s history,” Langdon says. “People are afraid. I talked to Tamika - she’s a woman who wanted to run against Henry in the last election for the office of mayor,” he adds for Percy’s benefit. “All of a sudden, she announced that she didn’t want to run for mayor after all, that she changed her mind because she was diagnosed with something. Anyway, I found out that she wasn’t ill, as she claimed, but that Henry intimidated her into giving up… she saved a few of the letters and e-mails she got back then, but not everything and she… well, she gave me an interview, but then she said that she wouldn’t feel comfortable with me publishing it on the internet. Similar stuff happened more often than I can count.”

“You think I’ll back out, too,” Credence says. It’s not a question, and Langdon doesn’t look surprised. “I… I won’t deny that I’m scared. He said he might take Mo and Chas away from me,” Credence confesses.

Percy reaches over and takes Credence’s hand into his, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. “That’s not going to happen,” he says.

“You don’t know that!” Credence counters. “He might hire… you haven’t seen the lawyer he hired when I got custody… he destroyed Ma in the courtroom and that’s not an exaggeration. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“If it comes to that, I can set up an appeal for donations,” Langdon offers. “I managed to collect enough money to finance lawsuits before and if you’d be willing to share your story, I’m sure... ”

“That won’t be necessary,” Percy says with more authority in his voice than necessary. “If you’d let me help out, I’d be more than willing to finance a lawsuit,” he adds.

Credence shakes his head. “Percy, you don’t have to, really. How would you pay for it? You bought a house a couple of months ago, I’m not paying you any rent and I’m not helping you pay off the mortgage… ”

“There is no mortgage,” Percy cuts in.

“You mean you just… How?”

“I’m a Graves,” he says and shrugs, as though that explains everything.

Credence doesn’t know what to make of Percy’s remark. Langdon, on the other hand, looks at him with wide eyes. “Wait, you mean you’re a Graves? You’re a member of the Twelve? That’s… and you’re living out here because… ?”

“Burn-out,” Percy replies, as a fancier and a bit more acceptable way of saying depression and alcoholism. “I wanted to start over, get away from it all.”

“I guess you managed that,” Langdon mutters. “A Graves, running a gas station… ”

“A chain of gas stations would be more fitting, no? Or a whole petrochemical company,” Graves says with a bitter laugh. “No, I’m not from that branch of the family. We've always been more under the radar. I've worked for the police before I had to change careers due to… well, you know.”

“Uh, Percy, can you tell me what's going on? Should I know your family?” Credence asks.

“Langdon mentioned the ‘Twelve’, that’s what people started calling the dozen or so families that are… well, let’s say my family has been influential in politics and economy for centuries. Old money, and all that.”

“‘Influential’?” Langdon echoes. “Is that what you call it? I could make another podcast about all the bullshit your family pulled over the years and I wouldn’t run out of material any time soon. Compared to the Graves family, the Shaws are small fries.”

Credence knows it’s stupid, knows it shouldn’t matter to him, but he can’t stop thinking that Percy betrayed him by keeping that detail from him. Henry, at least, has always been upfront about their differences in status. If Credence wasn’t good enough for Henry, why should he be good enough for Percy, who apparently boasts an even more illustrious family background than Henry? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked me. It’s a distant branch of my family Langdon was talking about, I haven’t seen most of these people in years and I don’t especially like them, either. I’m also not asking you to meet your mother, am I?”

“No,” Credence says. “You’re not.” He hesitates, taking a sip of his soda. “Still, for me, family is a big deal. Like it or not, money is also a big deal, mostly because I usually never had enough of it. So, the fact that you’re rich and come from an influential family, even if you don’t flaunt it, as you say… the fact that you didn’t tell me and that I only found out because of Langdon, that… I feel like you’re not taking me seriously. Worse even, like you don’t want me to know stuff about you because you don’t trust me, or you don’t want me to get close to you.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Percy says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would feel that way. Most of the time, I don’t think about distant relatives who I haven’t seen or spoken to in years. They’re not a part of my life, so it didn’t occur to me to bring them up in a conversation with you.”

“You also didn’t introduce me to any of your friends,” Credence says. “But I’ve already introduced you to all of my friends. It’s like you’re ashamed of admitting that we’re dating. You never invite anyone over to the house. Are you scared they might discover that you’re living with me and my sisters?”

“I… I should do that,” Percy acknowledges. “I’ll call Sera and Theseus and ask if they want to catch up. They’re my former colleagues, you know, and I owe them an apology or two, for how I treated them when I was… when I wasn’t doing that well.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” Credence says. “I’m… I’m happy that I can talk to you about stuff that bothers me if you know what I mean? I wouldn’t have been able to do that with… before. The most I would have gotten from him were accusations. He would have gotten scary… You don’t look surprised,” Credence comments, cocking his head into Langdon’s direction.

“I’m not,” he says. “I know my brother. And for the record, I’m ashamed to call him my brother. But it’s always been like this, Henry was our father’s golden boy, and no matter what we did, he was always right and I was always in the wrong. Believe it or not, I’m feeling so much happier ever since I stopped talking to my family.”

“I noticed that, too,” Credence butts in. “It already got better once I didn’t have to live with Ma anymore, and now that I don’t have to think about making sure that Henry is happy with me at all times… it’s been a relief.”

Percy makes an approving sound. “I know it’s not the same, but I’ve also… I’ve changed a lot since I stopped working on the case that was ruining my life. I’m actually much happier now, something I wouldn’t have expected when I was told to quit my job.”

Langdon looks interested but doesn’t follow it up with a question, for which Credence is grateful. He wanted Percy to be with him during the talk for emotional support, he never planned on making him the target of Langdon’s questions.

They knock a couple questions off Langdon’s list. Credence tells him how Henry used to control him, how easily he’s been provoked into a fit of rage and hurt him, going so far as to show him the scars on his back and telling the story of how he got his incisor half knocked out. (Henry had shown up at Credence’s apartment one evening, unannounced. Soo-hyun had been there, which Henry hadn’t liked. He’d screamed at her to leave and had shoved Credence hard against a cupboard. Credence had hit his mouth on the cupboard’s sharp edge, losing half his tooth in the process. Henry had never even offered to pay for a visit to the dentist.)

As they’re about to move on to the next question, Langdon’s phone rings. “It’s Ewan,” he says. “I should answer that. Be right back.”

He answers the phone, walking out onto the porch for privacy, but they can still hear him when he curses loudly seconds afterward.

Percy shares a concerned look with Credence. “Do you think we should follow him?”

Before Credence can answer, Langdon comes back in. He’s white as a sheet, and Credence can tell that something must be terribly wrong. “What happened?”

“It’s Buttercup, our dog… it’s… Ewan called me to say that she has to be put down. It looks like she ate something she shouldn’t have,” he says. Credence can see that his fingers are shaking. “I’ll… I’ll get back to you, okay? It’s a lot to take in right now, I don’t even know what to say.”

“Of course,” Credence mumbles, fighting a shiver. His car has been sabotaged, and not a week later, after he threatened Henry with talking to Langdon, Langdon’s dog winds up so sick it needs to be put down? Credence wishes he could pretend it’s nothing but a mixture of unfortunate coincidence and bad luck, but he doesn’t believe it.

Percy stands up, squeezes Langdon’s shoulder and says that he understands, Langdon should go and be with his partner, especially considering the implications. They can always continue this conversation at a later date, he says, using a calm but still authoritative tone of voice. Percy must have been a good policeman.

After he showed Langdon to the door, Percy returns to Credence’s side. “How are you doing?” he asks. “You looked like you spaced out for a minute.”

Credence shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “I guess I did.” Like Langdon said, it’s a lot to take in and he doesn’t know what to make of it all yet. Mostly, he wants to feel close to Percy, revel in their new-found intimacy and pretend like everything is going to be all right for once in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, I'd love to hear your opinion!


	9. June (III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks to everyone who left kudos or commented on the previous chapter <3
> 
> Now, I'm excited to announce that this week's chapter was once again written by writingramblr - thank you so much for helping me write this fic!
> 
> As always, this chapter was read by the lovely [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **chapter warnings: explicit sexual content (rimming, blow jobs, anal fingering, anal sex)**

Percy asks him something once Langdon has driven away. He misses it and has to look to Percy with a questioning tilt of his head, a quirk of his lips. 

It’s not mocking, but Credence hates that he’s unfocused. Percy is trying to  _ talk _ to him. 

Henry would have slapped him for such rudeness. Percy is not Henry, though. Not by a mile. “Sorry, I’m-”

“Distracted? Yeah. Me too. I was mostly just trying to lighten the mood. Since we’ll be home alone, I thought maybe… you could tell me what else you like. Besides bossing me around, much as I love that.” 

Percy smiles, and his eyes sparkle, as Credence’s stomach swoops around down to his toes. “Oh.” 

Far from the topic of conversation he expects, it’s a dizzying thought. Just considering his  _ favorite _ activity when it comes to sex ever, and the image his mind conjures up of Percy doing that to him is enough to make Credence squirm, standing against the counter. He swallows and closes his eyes, drawing on his strength and courage. 

Despite the fact they just had sex for the first time less than a week ago, Credence has been too nervous to bring it up, or initiate more beyond the occasional kisses before bed, or take up the invitation Percy gave him to join him in the shower yesterday morning. Credence isn’t scared of what Percy will say or think, but he  _ is _ cautious and can’t help being curious as to how it might affect the time they have. 

“I’ve uh, I think I’ve always liked when someone ate me out. It didn’t happen very often, I mean, doesn’t, so, yeah.” Credence finishes lamely, missing how Percy’s eyes widen and his breathing speeds up. Percy comes over to his side, not quite trapping him at the side of the kitchen. Credence is holding his breath, waiting to see what Percy will do. 

“You’re in such good hands because, as it happens, I was hoping for the chance to do that last time. If you want, we can go shower right now, and I’ll show you how good it can be.” 

Credence is on the verge of falling over, he’s leaning into Percy so heavily. He can only nod, as Percy stretches up on his toes, and brushes his lips right atop Credence’s, more of an exchange of air than a kiss. “Please, god, will you?” 

“Absolutely. Now, come on, let’s go have that shower together.” Percy’s hand finds his own, lacing their fingers together, as Credence is drawn out of the kitchen, towards the hallway leading to the master bedroom and bathroom.

In the bathroom, Credence hesitates to take his clothes off, in favor of watching Percy shuck off his soft sweater and cotton shirt, pushing down his casual pants and then turning to see what he’s doing.

“Do you want me to help you?” Percy asks with a wink.

Credence shakes his head. As much as he adores Percy’s hands on him, he’s afraid of getting too worked up before they’ve even gotten to bed. Credence strips methodically while Percy moves away from him to start the water, ensuring it’s not too hot. He soaps up a washcloth, handing it over to Credence once he’s stepped into the glass walls and shut the door behind himself. 

He’s barely swiped it across his chest and down his stomach before Percy’s behind him, hands gentle on his hips, lips suckling firm and hot over the back of his neck. Credence doesn’t have to stifle his moans for fear of the sound echoing. There’s no one to overhear them. The thought thrills him. 

It used to terrify him, being alone with a man who’s twice his strength, even if he’s got the height advantage on Percy. He  _ knows _ Percy won’t hurt him. Credence isn’t ready for more than what they are, but the possibility of calling Percy something besides his friend doesn’t make him break out in a cold sweat. Percy distracts him until he’s finishing up with the rag, and he steps away to rinse off, being freed graciously to do so. 

Credence gets a few good looks in as Percy wipes himself down, the white suds swirling through water darkened chest hair, taking away any chance of sweat in favor of just a pure clean scent. Credence doesn’t actually mind it. After they had sex, Percy had been fairly dripping with sweat, because it  _ is _ exerting, an exercise, and yet, Credence could have licked it off him.

There’s just something intrinsic about Percy’s being that he likes. 

Once they’ve both rinsed off and Percy hands him a towel, Credence sneaks a few more glances at Percy, naked and vulnerable as he is. He’s not precise with his drying. Where Credence does each limb at a time and finishes with his hair, Percy rubs the towel all over and hopes for the best. 

He also ignores the stray drops that make their way from his too-wet hair down his chest.

Credence doesn’t.

He wants to chase them with his tongue. There’s nothing to tell him he can’t, so... 

He plucks the towel out of Percy’s hand and ducks down to kiss him. A proper kiss, not just a whisper of a touch. He lowers to the side, purposefully nibbling over the man’s jawline, his neck, then over his collarbone to catch another stray droplet. Percy groans, as one of his hands comes up to cradle the back of Credence’s head, he speaks, and it sounds gratifyingly difficult. “We should… move to the bed.” 

Credence backs off and lets Percy lead the way, but instead of getting onto the blankets, he stands beside the bed and just looks at him. “What?” 

“If I’m gonna show you a good time, you’ve got to lay down,” Percy says. 

Credence’s face grows hot as he remembers the point of all this. He goes, knee first, then falls onto his back, choosing this way, instead of letting Percy eat him out while he’s face down into the mattress. Credence wants to  _ see _ as much as he can. His legs part easily, as he expects to accommodate Percy on the bed too, but Percy plucks a pillow off the head of the bed, and drops it onto the floor, before getting down on his knees. 

Two strong, broad hands slide behind his legs and jerk him forward until Credence’s thighs are flush to Percy’s shoulders and his face is inches from Credence’s groin. Percy’s tongue slips out, wetting his lips. Credence’s cock twitches. He’s been half hard since they got in the shower, and seeing Percy’s body naked and wet hasn’t exactly hurt matters. 

Percy pets over his thigh with one hand, up to his stomach, teasingly avoiding his cock in favor of reaching high enough to splay over his chest. “Ready?” Percy asks, polite to a fault, and Credence nods jerkily, far too eager. 

Percy leans forward. His hot breath hits Credence’s inner thigh, just before his lips make contact with his balls. His head falls back onto the bed and he fails at watching. Instead, he just feels. 

He feels as Percy licks, long wet stripes from Credence’s sack to his taint, then lower, he feels as his legs are hefted up, and his ass is pointedly revealed, stared at, then rubbed over with a thumb or forefinger, Credence can’t be sure. The touch is gentle, probing, then Percy’s mouth is back, his tongue is warm, pliant against Credence’s tight hole. Although he tries to relax, it helps more when Percy’s hand rises up again, this time making direct contact with his cock. Percy licks into him, and suckles his lips over the rim of Credence’s ass, while his hand strokes across his length, before a thumb swipes purposefully against the underside. 

Credence releases his hands from fisting the sheets in favor of grabbing a handful of Percy’s damp hair and then bracing the other on Percy’s nearest shoulder. Credence’s body starts to relax, the combined efforts of Percy’s hand on his cock and his lips and tongue relentlessly pressing against his hole stimulating ten thousand nerves at once. 

A familiar heat is already building in his gut. He can’t remember the last time he came from this, much less fingering himself. Delirious with pleasure, he hears Percy asking him something, pulling back with an obscenely wet noise, squeezing gently over his cock. “Credence… did you hear me?” 

He swallows and forces himself to look down. Percy - hair mussed from Credence’s rough hold, lips swollen, and eyes glassy with pleasure - is a sight to behold. Percy’s free hand is nowhere to be found and he hopes that Percy’s touching himself while he does this to him.

“What?” Credence doesn’t even bother apologizing again. Surely Percy understands why he’s less than perfectly coherent.

“Can you pass me the lube? I’d like to find your prostate, massage you there, if I may.” 

Credence lets out a strangled ‘God, yes.’ Fumbling in the bedside drawer, he finds the bottle and hands it down to Percy. Suddenly Percy has both hands on his legs, the spread of his pale thighs making Percy’s skin look incredibly tan by contrast.

Percy flicks the bottle open and wets his fingers liberally from the puddle of lube on his palm, then simply dives back in with his mouth first, before Credence feels the cool press of fingertips beneath Percy’s hot tongue. He melts into the bed, trying his utmost not to crush Percy’s head between his thighs. One finger slips in easily, up to what might be the first knuckle - Credence writhes around a bit, not quite fighting the arm thrown over his stomach. He can grind his cock up against it, finding friction on Percy’s forearm, and with his free hand, he grabs for the base of his cock, trying to hold back from coming too quickly. The second Percy finds his prostate, it’ll all be over. 

“Good?” Percy asks him, voice low, raspy and wrecked from lack of use. 

Credence thinks it’s obvious that it’s  _ incredible _ , but he whines out a loud “yes” and Percy gets the point. As the second finger nudges inside his ass, Percy moves his mouth away from Credence’s hole, licking and nipping up his inner thighs, his sensitive hipbones, and then he’s hovering right over his cock.

“Will this make you come?”

Credence can’t answer with words anymore; each place of contact that Percy has against him is enough to render him speechless. 

His cock that has been blurting and dribbling precum does so over Credence’s stomach, making what’s almost a pearly puddle, just shortly before it’s swallowed down by Percy. Credence’s back fairly arches off the bed as those thick fingers curl inside him, grazing the perfect spot, and Percy moans around his cock at the same time, vibrations adding to the delicious pleasure.

The ragged moan that leaves his throat as he comes is animalistic, ugly, but god, the way Percy takes him in, sucks hard and gulps as Credence’s cock spills into his mouth is beautiful and carnal and wicked. All things Credence once thought were bad.

Percy’s hand doesn’t stop moving, he rubs and presses against Credence’s prostate until the entire world seems to float away. Colors blur behind his eyelids. Eventually, Percy pulls his hand back, lets go of his cock, spit-slick and softening over his stomach, and Credence can breathe again.

Percy rolls him over gently, tucking a pillow under his head. His lover’s hands work on his lower back, thumbs pressing in circles against the stiff muscles there. He didn’t even know he was sore from his job, not until now. 

Percy’s mouth is insistent, kissing from the curve of Credence’s backside all the way up to his shoulder blade. He traces along specific lines and areas with his tongue, and it takes Credence a minute to realize Percy is kissing his scars.

Credence’s eyes sting with tears. “I want you to fuck me,” he says. It’s a groan, a whisper, and a strangled cry all at once. The idea is as exhilarating as it is frightening, the truth and ultimate surrender.

Percy stills over him, hands soothingly caressing his skin. Percy’s lips are right by his ear, then soft on the nape of his neck, making their way down to his hips, devastatingly gentle. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” Credence breathes, and pushes back, digging his knees into the bed, parting his legs, urging Percy on in a silent plea. It’s right there, he’s right  _ there _ , begging to be taken.

Percy swallows audibly and presses a kiss to his temple. “You want me to have you like this, right now?”

Credence nods and exhales slowly when Percy shudders against him. 

There’s a bit of a scramble, Percy gives him another pillow, this time to go under his waist, angling his back so it won’t hurt, and his arms can collapse and grow tired if needed. 

Credence feels Percy grabbing for a condom, more lube, and then slick fingers tease over his cleft again. 

This time, there’s a purpose for more than just making him come. Credence has always liked the slow-burning stretch of being opened up. Percy is careful, starting with just two fingers, not daring to add a third until Credence is begging him to. He knows well enough, Percy’s not going to hurt him, not with his hands, and not with his words.

Credence breathes out steadily when he feels Percy beginning to pull his fingers back. A single hot thick bluntness replaces them.

“Alright?”

Credence says yes, but Percy puts a hand in his own and squeezes, waiting, holding perfectly still. 

His entire body trembles, betraying his desire, and Credence nods, pushing back, halfway forcing Percy’s cock in those first few inches. “Oh fuck,” Percy groans

Credence can’t help smiling into the pillow. 

Before Percy starts to really move, he pushes in all the way, bottoming out to get a feel for how far he can go. 

Credence moves his legs, stretching back to be able to feel Percy’s hairy calves, dragging his toes along the sheets. He squeezes Percy’s hand tightly and tells him to do it. “Fuck me, Daddy.” 

Credence knows it works, because Percy grunts, and then pulls out almost entirely before starting up a rhythm that tells him just how long Percy has wanted this but has been too polite to ask. Percy fucks him with slow deep movements that drive Credence up and up to the ledge of his own arousal. If he were ready, he’d surely come again. Instead, he grits his teeth and tries to make it good for Percy. 

Credence feels the warmth of the man’s breath on his neck, and he’s barely aware that Percy’s lowered himself down to his arms. This way, it’s even more intimate, and he’s not certain if the thundering heartbeat in his ears is his own or Percy’s. 

“I’m close, but I don’t want to crush you. Do you wanna get on top?”

Credence shakes his head. “I want you to stay right here. On me.”

“Okay, whatever you say, sir.”

In a way, Credence doesn’t  _ mind _ the idea of Percy’s weight on him. He can already feel sweat forming in the center of his back, his knees ache, and his cock is stirring once more. Each jab of Percy’s cock against Credence’s prostate is like a live wire being plucked, lighting him up, reminding him of how sex should be. How it will be, from now on.

Percy kisses his neck in a manner Credence can only interpret as fond. A couple of thrusts later, his hips still against Credence’s ass, and a low groan flavored with his name leaves Percy’s lips. 

There’s no obvious bloom of warmth inside him, because of course, Percy’s kind enough to keep cleanup to a minimum, and Credence wants to kiss him for it. They’re not quite stuck together, but Credence feels clammy with sweat, and aches all over, from a good kind of sore. 

Percy retreats off of him only a few seconds later, the firm press of his body, jolting with aftershocks, something Credence misses immediately. He’s on his back, panting for air, fumbling to take off and tie up the condom, and Credence feels his second wind approaching. “Do you like… being eaten out too?” he asks, his voice almost a squeak

Percy looks over at him, deliciously flushed and slack-jawed from bliss. “Of course I do, but why-”

“Let me. Please. You can just stay right there, and let me come on your stomach after.”

Percy blinks, appearing dazed. “Oh, okay.”

Credence isn’t about to waste the precious time they have, not when he can demonstrate his own skills. Percy’s fairly worn out, thus, he seems grateful for the chance to lay back so Credence can have his way with him. He’s tempted to call Percy  _ ‘princess’ _ for more than one reason. 

Credence shuffles over to kneel in front of Percy, observing his own scars and marks, tentatively petting a hand up each leg, urging them apart. He’s not sure Percy would be able to keep them up against his chest, so he doesn’t press for it. Credence leans down to kiss Percy while moving in between the cradle of his thighs.

“You really wanna do this?” Percy asks him, looking a touch nervous. It’s adorable. 

“Yes. There’s a saying about it somewhere. If I’d been a bit more relaxed, I’d have asked you to do it to me last time.”

Percy’s eyes roll shut and he groans softly, “God. I wish I’d known how much you loved that, besides telling me what to do.”

Credence smiles and breaks away from kissing Percy in favor of nuzzling down his chest. “It’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world tonight.”

He does exactly what Percy did, treasures and worships each scar he can see before he so much as glances at Percy’s cock. Soft, draped over Percy’s thigh, Credence grazes a finger down the length of it, gauging how sensitive he is, and Percy’s body only shudders minutely, before he moves on. 

He squeezes encouragingly on each of Percy’s hips, then lowers down to kiss below Percy’s groin, nosing against his inner thighs, catching the familiar scent of the soap they both used to clean up earlier. 

As Credence works his way towards Percy’s ass, he feels Percy squirming a bit under him. 

“Do you need me to stop?” he asks, his heart thumping loudly, probably audible to Percy. 

“No, not exactly. Just, don’t expect things that can’t happen. I’m not as young as I once was.” 

Credence hums against him.

“You don’t have to come, Percy. I just want to make you feel good.” 

After that, the mood seems to change, and Percy relaxes a touch. Credence can do what he planned, and put one hand to Percy’s groin, nudging his sack out of the way, before closing his eyes and kissing purposefully right onto Percy’s hole. He lets out a moan, unprepared, and Credence smiles, pressing closer, flitting his tongue out and against the rim of it. Reaching underneath Percy’s ass, he can rub two fingers over Percy’s cleft, teasingly urging him to push up, to seek out more. 

Credence, keeping his jaw loose, proceeds to get Percy’s hole nice and wet, sloppy enough to allow one fingertip to massage over the rim, once his mouth does get tired and his neck aches. He glances up to see that Percy’s actually beginning to grow hard, at least a little bit. Considering his hands are fairly occupied, he tells Percy if he wants to touch himself, he can.

“Don’t get excited, it’s just a reaction to having such a beautiful creature between my legs,” Percy says, and even Credence can hear the desperation beneath the joking tone.

“Well Daddy, I’m flattered.” Credence snags the lube quickly, and slicks up his left hand, pressing one finger in easily, then surging up to kiss his way towards one of Percy’s budded nipples. The unconventional stimulation seems to do the trick. 

Percy completely avoids touching himself in favor of grasping for Credence’s head, and holding him close, even as he moves to switch sides, cleverly adding a second finger, reaching for where he knows Percy’s prostate is. He’s determined, and once Credence sets his mind to something, it happens. 

Percy’s breathing is already ragged and it almost stops entirely when Credence worries his left nipple between his teeth, as he rubs his slippery thumb along Percy’s taint, and curls his fingers hard into that sweet spot.

“Credence, oh  _ god _ .”

He doesn’t have to look to Percy’s cock to know he’s coming, whether from overstimulation or the prostate massage, and Credence relishes every single noise Percy lets out, shaking through the waves of pleasure. 

He’s primed to explode, having watched and tasted Percy in his entirety. Gently withdrawing his fingers, he wipes the excess lube off on his stomach, but then he’s taken by surprise, thrown onto his back, with Percy looming over him, burying his face in Credence’s neck. “You’re impossible. What am I going to do with you?” 

Credence’s heartbeat roars in his ears, and Percy barely has to wrap a hand around his cock before he’s coming, a strained gasp leaving him, only swallowed by the kiss that follows. 

Percy keeps touching him, with fingers sticky from Credence’s own release, right up to the edge where it becomes painful. He whines and Percy stops at once, collapsing over him; the effort it took to put Credence on his back clearly used up the last vestiges of his energy. 

“I’ll clean us up, shall I?” Credence murmurs quietly as his pulse settles, and Percy nods against him, puffing his breath over the sweat-damp skin of his chest. “Seeing as  _ you’re _ the one who can still walk, yes, please do.” 

Credence laughs to himself, pushing off the bed to proceed to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth, wiping up every trace of sweat and semen from Percy and himself before nudging Percy under the covers and curling up behind him. He tucks his chin over Percy’s shoulder and feels a hand resting over his own, while Credence pushes a knee between Percy’s legs. “Rest up.” 

“Thanks for the workout,” Percy mumbles, and Credence swallows down a laugh. 

He’s out almost as quick, lost in dreams that are painfully optimistic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Find writingrambl'rs blog [@soz](https://soz.tumblr.com/)
> 
> NOTE: I've been very busy for the last few weeks and had neither the time nor the energy to write much. Because I believe that good writing needs time, there will be no update next week, but I promise that I'll do my best to have an update ready the week after that. I'd rather spend more time on a chapter and ensure it's the best writing I can produce instead of rushing it and giving you a sloppily written chapter. I hope that's okay <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter, left kudos, or reached out to me via tumblr! It really means a lot to me, so thanks for your support <3
> 
> This chapter has been beta-read by the wonderful [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> So, as you might remember, I said I was going to use Claudia Kim's Korean name for the name of Credence's friend, Soo-hyun. She did turn out to be Nagini but like I said before, I really don't like that particular reveal for a number of reasons. In this fic, I'll continue to refer to her as Soo-hyun, I hope that's alright with you.
> 
> **Chapter warning: medical emergencies, child endangerment**

**Chapter 10 - July**

During the last few weeks, things have been blissfully quiet. Credence’s ex hasn’t tried anything to the best of Graves’ knowledge. The fear that had crept into their lives has become an unpleasant memory, but nothing more than that. (Graves did, however, install an alarm system in the house.)

The four of them try to live their lives as carefree as they can. Still, for about a week following the talk with Langdon, Graves notices Credence shooting worried glances out of the window every so often. He can’t blame him. When he let paranoia take over his entire thought process, he got the urge to check the driver of every gray car he came across. It’s going to pass, he tells himself until he starts to believe it.

Henry Shaw can’t be angry with Credence forever.

Even so, Graves has thought of whisking Credence and the girls away. He still owns his apartment in the city. It would be a bit of a squeeze, with the four of them, but if Percy cleaned out his home office and remodeled it into a second guest room...

“Percy, have you got a minute?” Credence calls, waving a pen and a piece of paper in his face.

“Sure, what’s up?” Graves stops squinting at the instructions for the assembly of Modesty’s birthday present - a swing set - which he has spread out on the kitchen table.

“I’m trying to make a grocery list for the barbecue. Can you have a look at it and tell me if I missed anything?”

“Of course,” Graves says. “Now that you mentioned it, do you want to switch tasks or can you at least help me with the swing set? I have no idea what part is supposed to go where.”

Credences shakes his head, suppressing a laugh. “It can’t be that hard to figure out,” he chuckles. “Let me see.”

Graves sets to work deciphering Credence’s chicken-scratch handwriting. He quickly does the maths in his head as to how much of every staple they’re going to need. They’re planning on hosting a barbecue as a belated housewarming and a way to forget their troubles, even for a little while. Graves even found the courage to ask Sera and Theseus to come. Theseus won’t be able to make it and sent his best wishes instead. Seraphina, however, said she and her wife would be delighted to visit them.

“Okay, I know how this is supposed to be set up,” Credence says, brandishing the plans. “Want me to show you?”

“Please.”

They set up the swing set in the back garden, at Percy’s insistence. He doesn’t want the swing set (and Modesty) to be visible from the road. Even though Credence’s ex is a much more tangible threat to their safety, Graves hasn’t forgotten that the Butcher is still out there, waiting to strike. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to either of the girls.

They’d sat down both of Credence’s sisters for a serious talk, in which Graves explained that they were concerned about a dangerous criminal being on the loose. Graves had checked off all the classics, from “Don’t talk to strangers” to “If you see something, say something” and had even thrown in “Constant vigilance!”, a throwback to his early days on the force. It had been a particular favorite of the aptly-named Alastor Moody, who’d run the department with an iron fist and a foul temper before Seraphina had taken over. They’d also gone and bought Modesty her own phone. So far, Modesty hadn’t had to use her new phone for an emergency call. (Its positive effects could still be felt, though, since Mo got into fewer arguments with Chastity over wanting to borrow _her_ phone to play games.)

One evening, when Graves had been in a particularly anxious mood, he read through his notes on the Butcher. A lot of his conclusions didn’t make sense when viewed with a sober mind, but what remained was the picture Tammy had drawn - the only illustration they had of the Butcher so far.

Graves had stayed up too late that evening, looking at the photograph he’d taken of Tammy’s drawing until his eyes were burning with the need to sleep and the contours of her childish sketch started to blur.

At times, he still sees Tammy’s father’s car, standing in the driveway of the building opposite the diner where Credence works. Then Graves gets the urge to cross the street, knock on the front door long enough for Sam Olsen to answer the door and ask him how his wife is doing, just to observe his reaction. But he never gives in to that urge. Sam Olsen has suffered enough for a lifetime. Who is Graves to judge?

* * *

In the days before the barbecue, Graves wonders how he should introduce Credence to Seraphina. He’d told her that he was dating someone, but that he didn’t think it was serious enough to… what? If he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that his feelings for Credence were growing at an alarming rate. What if Credence didn’t feel the same? He didn’t want Credence to feel stifled by the weight of Graves’ emotions.

“That’s okay” was all Credence said in response when Graves asked if he could introduce him to Seraphina as the person he was dating. “She’s going to have some questions for you, though, won’t she? I mean, I _am_ nearly half your age.”

Graves snorted, shaking his head. “Are you insinuating that I’m only dating you because I’m going through a midlife crisis?”

“People think that, for sure,” Credence said with a shrug. “Your friend is probably going to think that, too, but I don’t know if she’s going to be blunt enough to tell you so.”

He’d pulled Credence in for a kiss. “For what it’s worth, it doesn’t feel much like a crisis at all. And if it _is_ a midlife crisis then dating you is by far my favorite symptom.”

The day of the barbecue, Graves welcomes Seraphina and her wife, Ya Zhou, with open arms and an easy smile he doesn’t have to fake. He can’t remember when he last felt so carefree in Seraphina’s company, not weighed down by unspoken expectations. Maybe that’s what being at peace with yourself feels like. He makes a mental note to talk to Credence about it later.

Both Seraphina and her wife treat Credence with all the respect he deserves. Credence himself blinks in surprise at their behavior towards him before he recovers and returns their broad smiles. Graves also remembers that for later - for things they should talk about.

It all goes a bit too well. An hour later, once everyone’s arrived, Seraphina catches him alone in the kitchen, to where he’d retreated to fetch more drinks for everyone.

“I need to talk to you for a minute,” she says. Her voice sounded neither like the easy-going and approachable undertone she used when she was among friends, nor like the cool, determined voice that characterized Seraphina Picquery in her professional life. No, this was different. Her voice was scratchy like something was stuck in her throat, and she sounded like she hadn’t slept in days.

She sounded exhausted.

Defeated.

It’s the same tone of voice she used when she tried to talk Graves out of sacrificing his health and sanity, trying to catch the elusive Tammy Olsen’s murderer.

He faces her, not giving in to the urge that tells him to cross his arms in front of his chest. He has nothing to be ashamed of. “What is it?”

“He’s living with you,” she says. “His little sisters do, too. How much rent are you charging them? It can’t be much if he has to get by on a waiter’s salary. Then again, this house is huge and they’re using all the space,  it seems.” She looks around, lets her eyes glide over Modesty’s drawings pinned to the fridge.

He swallows. “I’m not charging them any rent. I don’t need the money, you know that.”

“I thought so. The boy has that look on his face, that says that he’s so _grateful_ for what you’re doing for him… are you sure he’s dating you because he likes you? And not because you’re the one who provides him and his family with a roof over their heads? For me, it looks like you’re either exploiting that boy and the difficult situation he’s in, but I know you too well, and you’re not the sort of man to stoop so low. So that leaves the other possibility - that kid is manipulating you into doing whatever he says and letting him take your money and your--”

“After all these years of friendship, I thought you’d know me better than that,” Graves cuts in. “I would never agree to such a deal. Sera, I promise, I wouldn’t lay a finger on Credence if I suspected that he’s sleeping with me not because he wants it, but because of… because of some sick sense of obligation. I know how it looks for an outside observer, I’ve had that conversation with Credence. But it’s not like that, I promise. You want to make sure I’m alright and know what I’m doing? What do you need to hear to believe me?”

She shrugs, not meeting Graves’ eye. “I want to believe you. It’s very sudden, you have to admit that. None of your previous partners _ever_ moved in with you before. You’re gone for half a year and suddenly there’s a young man living with you and… it seems very out of character for you.”

Reluctantly, Graves tells her of how Credence had one night sought shelter at Graves’ house after an argument with his abusive partner had escalated. “I offered him and his sisters a place to stay and it… well, it just happened. It’s all very new and we’re still getting used to each other, but it’s _good_. I want to be a better person. For him. For the girls. I can feel that I’m recovering. I haven’t had a drink ever since they moved in with me, and it’s getting easier to resist.”

“I wanted to ask about that, too. So, you’re doing well? The whole team misses you, you know? Are you still looking into the case or… ?”

Graves shakes his head. “I’m trying not to think about it too much. But Credence’s youngest sister? We actually dyed her hair last week. She’s a natural blonde and we didn’t want to take the risk of her catching the Butcher’s eye.”

They’d used a mixture of henna and indigo. Soo-hyun swears by it. She’d come by and helped them since neither Graves nor Credence had any experience with hair dye. (Soo-hyun had jokingly offered to touch up Graves’ graying temples as well but Credence had cut in and said she’d better not do that, he happened to like Percy’s hair just like it was, thank you very much. Graves had found it amusing.)

Her eyes widen. “‘We’? You mean you told Credence about that case?”

“He’s told me about the lowest points in his life,” Graves says, tracing condensation water that’s collecting on one of the soda can’s he was supposed to carry outside long ago. “It’s only fair that he knows about my lowest points in turn.”

She blinks a few times, her surprise morphing into a nod of calm acceptance. “I didn’t know you were that serious when it comes to him, but good on you, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?”

She chuckles and lays a hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly. Her palm is warm and dry against his skin. “Percy, I don’t know if you realize it yourself, but talking about your feelings with someone you’ve known for just a few months, that’s so unlike you. In the past, the Percival Graves that I knew would never have done that.”

“Well, then the Percival Graves you used to know was a callous asshole,” Graves says, only half in jest.

Seraphina laughs and asks if he’d care to repeat that statement on video, so she’ll have something to show around the department when she gets back to work.

He shakes his head, not mad, but smiling along with her. “Some other time,” he says, gesturing to the drinks. “We should carry those outside. Care to help me?”

Back outside, the comfortable buzz of the party greets them. Modesty is playing with Seraphina’s and Ya Zhou’s children. Chastity is joining in, even though she deems herself too old for kid’s games. Jacob, Queenie, and Tina are talking to Langdon Shaw and Ewan Abernathy. Jacob is clapping the latter on the back, saying something that sounds like ‘I’m so sorry’. Graves guesses it’s about their dog.

He joins them for a minute.

Langdon Shaw meets his eyes, and Graves nods once. ‘I feel your pain, your confusion, and your barely-contained rage,’ he thinks. It’s all he can offer him, silent understanding. As a police officer, he had to hold the “We are very sorry for your loss”- speech too often without feeling it. Now, he prefers this wordless expression of caring.

Jacob offers them pastries, saying he’s been experimenting with new recipes. He talks about adapting and improving the old family recipes, passed down from generation to generation, eventually making it across the Atlantic from Poland, even.

Leta, Credence, and Soo-hyun are chatting with Seraphina and her wife. Especially Soo-hyun is gesturing wildly and as Graves gets closer, he can hear her describing a design of a snake.

“You should have told me your friend’s wife was a tattoo artist,” Soo-hyun says, playfully wagging her finger at Graves. “I’ve wanted to cover up this atrocity for ages,” she adds, pointing out the tattoo of a name on the inside of her left upper arm. Graves doesn’t get a good look, but he thinks it read ‘Tom’.

“Shit, sorry,” Graves says, handing them all their preferred drinks. “Bad memories?”

She snorts while cracking open her drink. “You could say that.”

* * *

Later, Graves ends up talking to Seraphina again - Ya is off sketching tattoo ideas with Soo-hyun, while Credence makes comments about the design every now and then.

“How are you doing, really?” Seraphina asks in a low voice.

“I already told you, I’m fine,” he replies. “Is that so difficult to believe? I know you have your doubts about Credence, but he makes me happy.”

“You don’t miss being a cop? The thrill of the investigation, the knowledge that you’re contributing to making society safer? You wouldn’t even have to give up your new relationship. Credence and his sisters would have more opportunities in the city, Credence could get an education if he wants to and the schools are better in the city anyway... ”

Graves takes a long sip of his water. “Are you trying to trick me back into my old job? You need to work on your subtlety if you thought that was going to work.”

“I was just pointing out the obvious. I don’t want to insult your life choices but this is a little beneath you, wouldn’t you agree?” She gestures around at the slightly overgrown garden and the old gas station building. Graves used to think it looked dilapidated, but now he’s gotten used to it and thinks it has a certain charm. “What’s keeping you here? Look, you could get your old job back, work reasonable hours and make decent money. For example, you could take Credence out to fancy restaurants, not whatever it is that you do here, spoil him a little and… ”

“If you want me to take my job back, then say so,” Graves cuts in, before Seraphina can get any more desperate.

She closes her mouth with a snap and nods. “It’s not just me, either. We’d all appreciate it if you took your job back.”

“The same job you encouraged me to take a break from? Oh no, wait, you suspended me.”

“Oh, come on, Percival, you know I didn’t have a choice. Your behavior… it was for your own good. But now that you’ve recovered and are obviously well again, you can start back in any time.”

“I… ” he falters. “You need to understand that I can’t make a decision like that on my own. I’ll have to talk to Credence about it, too.”

“He would probably stand in your way if you explained the situation to him.”

“Stand in my… he’s my partner, not a millstone around my neck!”

“You want to know why we want you back in the team? Another body has been found. I almost didn’t manage to get the day off.”

Graves snorts. “What? So you’re not actually here to see me because we’re friends? Is this a covert recruitment mission?”

Seraphina meets his gaze unwaveringly. “I’m sorry.”

“You know, I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended,” Graves says. He glances left and right before he continues: “You want me back because I’m a good investigator, but you’re afraid that I… what? That I won’t be able to take the strain? That I’ll suffer a relapse?”

“Well, it’s not all that uncommon, is it?” Seraphina mutters, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “If your new boyfriend has an ounce of common sense he won’t let you join the investigation. He cares about you and nobody wants to see someone they care about destroying themselves.”

He swallows, but the lump that’s formed in his throat upon hearing Seraphina’s words doesn’t disappear. If anything, it seems to grow even bigger. He’s tempted to say that he’ll join the investigation anyway if only to keep the promise he made to Mrs. Olsen such a long time ago. He’d find Tammy’s killer.

But could he leave, go back to his old life like nothing happened? Like he’s not a different man? Hasn’t he made another promise in the meantime, not spoken out aloud in words, but affirmed day in and day out through his actions? Didn’t he promise Credence and his sisters shelter and protection?

Graves knows the faces of the women and men of his former department, hunting the killer, ferocious and unrelenting, just as he used to be as an investigator. However, in the meantime, Percival Graves has picked a different battle - he fights against the temptation of the bottle, the numbness, and apathy that comes with depressive episodes, and he fights for happiness, fights for this new-found love. If it weren’t for him, what would be standing between Credence and his abusive ex-lover? Credence is strong, Graves would be a fool to assume otherwise, but the strain of having to juggle his job, his responsibilities as a guardian for his sisters and the need to keep himself safe from possible retaliation by Henry…

“I’m sorry, Seraphina,” he says eventually, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m needed here.”

“Well, if you’re sure… I thought you might want to know that we found some DNA samples of the murderer under the fingernails of the latest victim. She scratched him good, but it was… it wasn’t enough.”

“Good,” Graves rasps. “Not that she didn’t… I mean… it’s good that you found DNA. I’m sure you’ll manage to find and arrest that monster, then.”

“You’re sure, then?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’ve got my own battles to fight here and Credence… well, I feel like he needs me more than he’d like to admit.”

* * *

They count the barbecue as a success. Graves feels like he’s made new friends (or at least rekindled the friendship with the old ones). Soo-hyun is excited about getting a new tattoo and Graves asks himself if Credence would appreciate it if he offered to pay for it, as a sort of thank you to her for determining what exactly was wrong with his car.

The only minor inconvenience was Chastity staying out in the sun for too long and getting a nasty sunburn on her shoulders and arms, but other than that, the party was a good distraction from the worries of everyday life. And they sorely needed distraction. During the last few weeks since Henry had threatened to get a lawyer to take custody of his sisters away from Credence, Graves has had to check the mail every day at Credence’s request to see if a letter from a lawyer had arrived or not. So far, there haven’t been any notifications or warnings. Graves assumes that Henry Shaw was clever enough to do a more thorough background check on Graves. Henry must have realized that Graves had more than enough financial resources to match whatever he could afford to pump into a legal battle.

Henry Shaw is crazy, no doubt about it, but at least he knows how to pick and choose his battles.

Graves can’t decide if that’s reassuring or not. A total madman would slip up after a while. But a man with a substantial self-preservation instinct? He could potentially stick around for a long time, continuing to torment Credence.

* * *

It’s the evening after the barbecue. Dinner consists of heating up the leftovers from yesterday. Credence has to work late, so it’s just Graves, Chastity, and Modesty. The girls don’t seem to mind being stuck with only him, and Graves admits that he takes a certain amount of pride in the fact that they’ve accepted him as a member of the family.

He never thought it would happen, but when he now sees Chastity understanding concepts in maths faster than she would have a few months ago or Modesty asking him to read her a story he _knows_ she’s read on her own anyway… well, it feels nice.

Dinner is ready, and he calls the girls. Chastity comes down immediately, but Modesty is lagging behind. When he goes to investigate, he discovers her in her room, rather unsuccessfully trying to hide a half-eaten pastry. Her whole face as red as a tomato.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, wiping crumbs from her mouth.

Graves tries to summon a little seriousness, but he inevitably fails at the task. Modesty looks too adorable, trying to hide the pastry she must have taken from the pile Jacob brought yesterday.

“You know what, you come down to dinner now and if you eat all your vegetables, then you can finish your pastry for dessert and we’ll forget about it, right?”

“Thank you!” she beams and puts the pastry away in a napkin.

Modesty chats happily with Graves for most of the meal, while Chastity is quieter, but that’s to be expected. Still, maybe he should borrow one Credence’s books about being a parent to children going through puberty. Credence might have said that taking care of his sisters wasn’t as difficult as Graves thought it was, but he thinks Credence doesn’t give himself enough credit. He would feel like he was letting Credence down if he didn’t make a conscious effort to educate himself at least a little. Every day is a reminder that he needs to be his best self, so he can be a good partner to Credence and possibly an ersatz-parent to Chastity and Modesty.

Life is good and Graves is content.

So, of course it can’t last.

When Modesty gets violently sick shortly after dinner, Graves calls an ambulance right away. Perhaps he’s overly cautious, perhaps his paranoia is making a return, but he decides that he doesn’t want to fight it.

Later, at the hospital, he’s being told that calling an ambulance right away had been the correct decision. If he had waited, allowing the poison to spread further in her system, Modesty would have had no chance of survival at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys...
> 
> Now, I guess I've got good news and bad news?
> 
> Good news first: There are only two more chapters to go!
> 
> Bad news: University has started again and my courseload this semester is a bit more intense than I'm used to, so uni work takes up a lot of my time, which in turn, limits the time and energy I can devote to writing fic. I'd love to update weekly again, but I'm afraid that it just won't be possible without burning myself out. I'll do my best to update every other week for these last few chapters, though!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been stressful, but I managed to get it done - here is the penultimate chapter!
> 
> As always, beta-read by the wonderful [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/)!
> 
>  
> 
> **chapter warnings: hospital setting, fearing for a relative's life, implied attempted murder**

Queenie pulls Credence aside during work and hands him the phone, a panicked look on her face. Percy is on the other end of the line. Although he speaks clearly, Credence can’t make sense of what Percy is saying at first.

“Mo is at the hospital? How?! What happened? Do you… should I visit after work or…?”

“Credence, it's serious,” Percy cuts in. “I'll come and get you. I’m about ten minutes away from the diner right now. Wait for me there, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s serious’?”

“The doctors said she has about a fifty percent chance of survival.”

Credence doesn’t know how it happened, but the next thing he knows is that he’s kneeling on the floor. No,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I don’t… please no.”

He’s dimly aware that everyone is staring at him, but he doesn’t have the willpower to care. Queenie hugs him tightly; it feels like all the air in his lungs is being crushed from his body.

He waits for Percy in the mild summer air outside the diner. He feels so numb, he doesn’t even have it in him to cry. Instead, he’s silently praying to a god he thought he’d renounced long ago. ‘Please let Modesty live.’ Perhaps it’s blasphemy, but Credence thinks he has suffered so much for Ma’s god. He’ll be bearing the scars for the rest of his life, so he thinks he deserves this one favor.

Percy pulls into the parking lot of the diner. How can he still drive safely like it’s just another day? For a single, treacherous moment, he thinks that Percy might not care about Modesty at all. One look at Percy’s face is enough to banish all those thoughts. He looks like he’s aged a decade since Credence last saw him this morning - the lines on his face are deeper and his hair looks even grayer than before. There are tear tracks on his cheeks.

Credence gets into the backseat, clinging close to Chastity like she’s the only thing in the world that still matters. He doesn’t want to think about what might be happening to Modesty right now… He and his sisters made it through so much tragedy already, it can’t end like this. It mustn’t. It would be nothing but a cruel joke.

Percy is talking to him, but Credence doesn’t hear what he’s saying. The blood is pounding in his ears and he’s sure that he’s never felt his own heartbeat so consciously before. It’s beating at least twice as fast as usual, like a frightened animal, slave to its instincts. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly he’s afraid of every heartbeat he feels being his last. What if it just stopped and didn’t start again, what would he do, what would he feel like during those last few moments before death?

Is this what Modesty is going through right now? Is she as scared as Credence?

He looks at Chastity, face wet with tears and pale as a sheet. “It happened so fast,” she whispers, unseeing eyes staring off into space. “I don’t even… one minute she was fine, the next she was…”

Credence holds her even closer. If Modesty dies, then Chastity is going to be the only family he has left.

“Credence, did you hear what I said?” Percy asks.

He manages to look up, but still doesn’t let go of Chastity. “No,” he admits. His voice sounds hollow like it doesn’t belong to him. “I… what happened? Do the doctors know anything? Any updates on her condition?”

He almost doesn’t want Percy to answer. What if the worst has happened and she’s…? In that case, he’d almost prefer not knowing.

“The hospital hasn’t called me with any updates, I hope that means that… you know, that at least the situation remains the same.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Credence echoes.

Beside him, Chastity sobs and Credence clutches her closer to him.

“We… well, it’s a mystery, to be honest,” he says. “Modesty suddenly got sick after dinner. I immediately called an ambulance. After what’s already happened to us, I thought I couldn’t take any chances.”

They reach the hospital. Percy parks the car and directs them to the hospital entrance. Credence remembers the last time he was here, years ago, when Ma had beaten him bloody and some of the wounds had gotten badly infected.

Fighting against the urge to throw up, he lets himself be pulled towards the hospital on unsteady legs. If anything had changed, they would have called Percy, he repeats to himself. They would know if... if...

Credence almost breaks down when a doctor finally tells them that Modesty's condition hasn't changed. Apparently, that's a cause for tentative hope.

"But she could still die, right?" Credence hears himself say, in the same hollow, unreal voice that's so unlike his own. He won't let himself hope, won't open his heart to weakness like that. If he's learned anything over the course of his life, it's that having hope just makes it hurt so much more when life eventually lets you down.

The doctor - a middle-aged woman who reminds Credence a little of Ma - gives him a sympathetic look. He knows what a picture he must present, red-rimmed eyes from crying, lips chapped from perpetually biting them. Disheveled, frightened and tired. So very tired.

It's always been exhausting, living his life around trauma, fear, and pain, but he'd thought it would get better, now that he had a good thing going with Percy. He’d foolishly thought that he'd finally succeeded in creating a stable environment for his sisters to grow up in. They should have been safe now.

"It's important that we manage our expectations," the doctor replies. Credence takes that as a yes.

Credence plops down in one of the plastic chairs - built for practicality, not for comfort - in the waiting area. He keeps one arm slung around Chastity and leans against Percy for support. A part of him wants to stay this way forever, wants to keep them close so he can always be there to protect them.

A second later, he inhales sharply as a realization crosses his mind - does that mean he's already given up on Mo? Shouldn't he want to be with her instead?

He feels Percy squeeze his hand and brush a kiss over his temple. His eyes sting again with tears; he didn’t know he still had the capability to cry. He thought he’d used them up already. It should have been different now, everything could have been so good with Percy. Why does it feel like he’s being punished for the brief period of happiness he had with Percy?

‘Selfish,’ Ma would call him. He shouldn’t have walked away from Henry, he should have just told Percy to stay away and ask him not to frequent the diner anymore so Credence could forget him. If he had just stayed in line, if he hadn’t dared to wish for something more and left Henry to get it, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Maybe Modesty wouldn’t be dying…

He feels too tense and too relaxed at the same time, he can’t figure out how to arrange his limbs in a way that doesn’t feel uncomfortable, but at the same time, why does he even bother? Why does he dare to complain? Modesty might be… he would trade places with her in a heartbeat if he could. Let his own body fight against whatever poison is attacking Modesty’s system right now.

After a while, with no new updates on Modesty’s condition, the adrenaline rush subsides, and his exhaustion catches up with him. Against all odds, Credence nods off.

* * *

 "Credence?"

He looks up, half-expecting to see a doctor, but the voice is too familiar, too...

"What are you doing here?" he half-yells before he can control himself.

In his worst nightmares, Credence would have expected a number of people to show up at the hospital - Henry, in his capacity as mayor, looking down at him and pretending to feel sorry, while insinuating that Credence was never fit to take care of his sisters in the first place. Or maybe Ma, sneering at him like she always did, like he wasn’t worth her time and attention, just before she asked him to hand over his belt and take off his shirt.

Credence would not have expected Gellert Grindelwald to make an appearance.

Gellert is standing just a few feet away, looking the worse for wear. There are bags under his eyes like he hasn't slept in days and his hair is grayer than dirty-blond these days. It's been nearly a year since they last spoke with each other. Nearly a year since Credence last allowed himself to believe a word Gellert said.

"Did Henry send you?" Credence asks. He shakes off Percy's hand from his shoulder and moves to stand between his family and Gellert. "How did you even know where to find me? Did Henry ask you to track my phone or whatever the fuck else he could think of?!"

Gellert winces, like Credence's words cause him physical pain. 'Good,' Credence thinks. 'Let him suffer.'

"No," Gellert says. "Tina was on duty tonight and I was still working at the office. She got a call and seemed very upset, I asked her what had happened and if we were needed anywhere. She told me what happened to your sister. Modesty, right? The younger one?"

Credence fixes him with a glare. "Don't pretend like you suddenly started to care," he sneers. He has no idea where he gets the courage from, but suddenly the accusations are spilling from his mouth like a waterfall, no way to stop them. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," Gellert says and shrugs his shoulders. "I know that you probably don't need me, but I thought... if there's anything I can do... " Gellert takes a few uncertain steps in Credence's direction but stops abruptly when Percy clears his throat behind them.

"Well, you're right," Credence says, quickly looking over his shoulder and gesturing to Percy that he's got this. He doesn't need any help. He turns back to glare at Gellert. "I don't need you here. You've had your chance and you blew it. I won't trust you ever again."

Gellert grimaces. "I know, you don't need to remind me. Would you believe me if I said that I didn't mean to?" He reaches out to Credence but Credence holds up a hand.

"No, stop it," he says and suppresses a hysterical laugh. If Percy and Chastity weren't here, if it was just the two of them, he's sure that Gellert would have tried to lure Credence in again with empty promises. He's ashamed to admit it, but he believed Gellert's lies for a while when Henry had been particularly nasty to him. Gellert had seemed like a safe haven in comparison when in reality, he was anything but. He'd promised Credence that he would help him to end things with Henry and find a 'solution' for the situation with his sisters, which meant that he wanted them to go into foster care.

In the end, all that was left of their affair was Credence's once more broken heart and the realization that Gellert had lied to him and used him, much like Henry did. Henry had more leverage to extort Credence, though, so with Henry he ultimately stayed.

Until... Credence looked over his shoulder again at Percy, who'd stood up in the meantime and observed Gellert like a predator observing prey.

Percy had turned out to be everything Gellert had pretended to be. Most importantly, he'd taught Credence that he was worth being treated well and didn't have to compromise his mental and physical well-being for the sake of keeping up a relationship which, at its core, didn't work out anyway.

"So, you heard of Mo getting sick and you thought you could come to the hospital, find me and provide a shoulder to cry on, hoping I'd come crawling back to you, is that right?" Credence asks.

Gellert flinches and Credence won't pretend that he doesn't enjoy seeing him wince and look guilty. What is he still trying to protect anyway? What is he trying to prove? His youngest sister might die, his life is falling apart around him... what does it still matter if he makes Gellert angry?

"I won't ask again," Credence says. "What are you doing here? What are you trying to achieve?"

"I have no intention of trying to win you back," Gellert replies, not quite managing to mask the bitterness in his voice. "I won't lie and say I wouldn't like to have you back because I would, but that's beside the point. I heard about Modesty and I knew that I... this is too much for me. I can't keep covering this up. I'm hardly able to sleep at night even with meds and I don't... I came here to tell you that I won't cover for Henry any longer. If you want to press charges against him, you can count on me as a witness. I swear on all the feelings I've ever had for you that this is not an empty promise."

Credence's head is reeling from Gellert's words. "You'd testify against Henry? For me?" he says. Secretly, he’s proud of himself for managing to keep his voice steady, cool and aloof-sounding. Internally, he feels a wave of fondness for Gellert which is nearly as strong as it had been when Credence had been in something like love with Gellert. If he didn't know any better, if he hadn't already been disappointed so many times, and if he didn't have something much more stable, healthy and fulfilling with Percy, he might have even been tempted into giving Gellert another chance.

That’s not going to happen. No, this time, Credence is going to be the one who'll benefit from another man's guilt. Still, it doesn't explain why Gellert thought that Mo getting sick of all things merited him changing his mind to testifying against Henry.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I have a few questions,” Percy says. “I suggest you sit down and tell me everything you know about Henry Shaw Junior.” There’s a low, threatening edge to Percy’s voice which he’s never heard before, not even when they’d played around in bed with Percy taking on a dominant role. For the first time since he’s met Percy, Credence can imagine being afraid of him, and he thanks God that Percy never had a reason to direct this tone of voice at him before, that Percy is unlike Henry and Ma.

Percy seizes Gellert by his right forearm; Credence can see how the knuckles on Percy’s hand are turning white. Gellert winces under what must surely be a vise-like grip.

Gellert sends a pleading look in Credence’s direction, but Credence makes a point not to give him any indication of feeling whatsoever. No, Gellert is going to get a blank canvas, nothing to read, nothing to hold onto and manipulate, not even a single emotion.

Percy has Gellert sit down in a chair - deliberately far away from Chastity, who’s looking even paler than usual and has started to scratch off her sunburnt skin from her arms to cope with the stress, Credence guesses.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Chastity shrugs and avoids his gaze when she eventually shakes her head. "It's like a bad movie, don't you think?" she whispers.

Credence doesn’t agree with her. A bad, formulaic movie would at least have a happy ending - here, in the grim reality of life, there's nothing he can count on. He can't even imagine what life would be like if Mo died, what they would have to do, how he would be able to keep on living...

Gently, he pulls Chastity into a hug and tells her that things will be okay, even if he doesn't believe it himself. He releases her from the embrace and turns his gaze to Percy and Gellert.

It's still a novelty, seeing Gellert so intimidated.

"What do you know about Henry Shaw Junior. that gives you such a guilty conscience?" Percy asks. There are no vestiges of mercy in his voice; it's cold, precise, and cuts straight to the bone.

Gellert looks up quickly, trying to make eye-contact with Credence.

"Eyes on me," Percy orders. "I'm talking to you, Mister Grindelwald. What do you know about Mayor Shaw?"

"I… I don’t…" Gellert hesitated. "I told him that he shouldn't do anything stupid, but when has anybody ever managed to dissuade Henry? Technically, I couldn't do anything against him, he was just talking like his usual self when he's angry. And he gets angry often and easily--"

"You don't know what he did?" Percy cuts in. “I don't believe you. I'm sure you are well informed about Henry's plans, but you want to save your own skin."

Hesitantly, Credence reaches out and taps Percy on the shoulder. He halfway expects Percy to snap at him, yell, maybe, or complain that Credence should know better than to disturb him. To his surprise, Percy does neither of those things.

"What is it?" he asks, and his voice is so devoid of the accusatory undertone Credence expected that something inside his chest hurts a little.

"Let me..." he mumbles, not sure what he was even going to say or do. He looks Gellert deep in the eyes and tries to look confident, persuasive and pleading at the same time. "If you've ever felt anything for me at all... if at least some of the things you said you felt for me were true, then please tell us what you know. It would mean the world to me. What did you mean when you said that you... I mean, what does this all have to do with Henry?"

Gellert shakes his head, sad and downtrodden. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he asks.

“Figured out what?” Credence echoes, but he feels his anxiety surrounding Mo suddenly disappear for a moment - it’s being replaced by crystal clear focus, so sharp that it hurts. How come he hasn’t made the connection before? Langdon’s dog had been poisoned, Credence had been with Langdon when he’d gotten the news, citing that she must have eaten the wrong thing. “Buttercup,” he whispers.

Gellert slumps down, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. "I assume he poisoned Modesty, just like he poisoned his brother's dog. I know about the dog, for sure, and Henry made some hard to misinterpret comments about how he would have to take direct action to make you see reason and come back to him, Credence."

"But... how was he able to do that? I would have noticed if he'd even gotten close to the house," Percy says, his voice betraying the fact that he's as lost and helpless as Credence.

“I don’t know what he was going to do exactly,” Gellert mumbles. “But he was holding a bag from Kowalski’s bakery…”

Percy gasps. “Modesty was eating a pastry when I called her down for dinner. I thought she’d nicked it from the barbecue, that’s why I didn’t ask where she’d got it from. Or who gave it to her.”

Credence doesn’t know whether he wants to throw up or cry or crawl out of his skin, leave this body behind which he had allowed Henry to touch, to kiss, to fuck... “Percy,” he forces out. “I need you to keep me from doing something stupid because right now, all I want to do is find Henry and tear his throat out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This was probably one of the most personal chapters I've ever written. If you want to share your opinion with me, I'd be overjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think, if you'd like to share your opinon!
> 
> I have a couple more chapters pre-written, so stay tuned for chapter two, in which Graves meets Credence and asks him out.
> 
> This fic was inspired by:
> 
>   * [The Pledge](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pledge_\(film\)) (movie, 2001)
>   * [The Pledge: Requiem for the Detective Novel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pledge:_Requiem_for_the_Detective_Novel) (novella, 1958)
>   * [It Happened in Broad Daylight](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It_Happened_in_Broad_Daylight) (movie, 1958)
> 

> 
> Find me on tumblr:[@almost-annette](https://almost-annette.tumblr.com/)


End file.
